Twenty Eight
by Mrs J's Soup
Summary: ::::A Mini Sequel to 169:::: Remus is the DADA Professor at Hogwarts in 1993. Of course, there are no Dementors or wrongly imprisoned Azkaban escapees threatening the school. But even without the Boy-Who-Lived's baggage endangering lives, Hogwarts still seems to attract danger. Someone wants Remus dead, and they are willing to put the whole school at risk to do it.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **__Hello you lot! I feel like it's been forever! _

_Here, finally, is the first chapter of the sequel to One Hundred and Sixty Nine. _

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_**5**__**th**__** November 1993**_

"For Merlin's sake Prongs!" Sirius hissed angrily, as he crashed into James's back for the third time in as many minutes.

"It's not my fault," James shot back annoyed, "the ceiling is so much lower than it used to be."

Sirius could just make out his friend's silhouette in the dark tunnel. He snickered to himself when James started off again, and almost at once thunked his head on one of the dangling roots that protruded into the passage.

"Bugger it," James said, as he rubbed his head, "Lumos."

"Hey! I thought we were on a secret mission here," Sirius complained, the sudden flaring of light from James's wand was dazzling, "Won't it give our presence away if the statue starts glowing like some sort of lady-Igor-angel?"

"We're not even in the castle yet," James countered, but he frowned in the direction of the upcoming bend in the tunnel. It marked the transition from earth walls to stone ones. "I doubt the light will travel that far."

Sirius had to admit James had a point, but it just wasn't in the spirit of the thing, he thought. He couldn't deny however that progress was far more efficient when they could actually see where they were going. Feeling slightly depressed that he and James could no longer tear along the tunnel in the pitch dark – and they weren't even carrying cartons of miscellaneous contraband, as used to be the norm – he hoisted his rucksack higher on his shoulder and followed on.

* * *

Remus was running late by the time he reached the hospital wing that stormy evening. His quick trip to see the matron and have his pre-moon dose of wolfsbane dispensed had been way-laid by Headmistress McGonagall. She had asked Remus for a letter explaining that hippogriffs were not classed as dark creatures and were therefore perfectly suitable for study in a Care of Magical Creatures class, and that in his humble (Voldemort vanquishing) opinion, any hippogriff that attacks a child because the child wasn't listening and insulted it, shouldn't have to be put down. It might seem onerous, but Remus really didn't mind attaching his name to things if it helped sort the situation out. Having people take his opinion seriously was one of the perks of taking all the media heat for Lily over the last twelve years.

Remus pushed open the door to the main ward of the hospital, and unlike the internal corridor where thick stone walls muted the sound of tonight's violent weather, the hospital wing had large windows which seemed to amplify the storm. There was heavy rain lashing the glass and Remus could hear distant thunder rumbling out in the dark Highland night.

"Good evening Poppy," Remus began, determined to get his potion and get back to his office. There was a stack of first year essays on the differences between a jinx and a curse that needed his attention, and he needed to do it before his brain was dulled into the fogginess he still had to endure in the final hours before the moon rose. Wolfsbane was a miracle, but that small side-effect remained.

Remus was drawn up short however when the figure standing at the matron's office door turned to face him. It was not Madam Pomfrey as he had first thought in his hurry, but a man wearing a white smock over his robes similar to the one Madam Pomfrey normally wore when dealing with patients.

His hair was dark and neat, his leather shoes so shiny they reflected the light from the gas lamps on the walls. He wore a pair of heavy-framed glasses too, these were currently sliding down his nose as his head was bent over a sheaf of parchment. The man was scratching furiously but he paused at the sound of Remus's voice and looked up, pushing his glasses back into place. The man gave Remus a brisk nod, "Good evening," he replied, doing only the smallest of double takes before returning to his scribbling. Remus was very glad of this, he was not in the mood for inquisitive strangers asking questions about his past.

"Look Mr Fawley, I'm sorry but these are all the records we have." the harassed sounding voice of Madam Pomfrey said from out of sight. Several scrolls floated from within her office out towards the dark haired man and his busy quill – Mr Fawley apparently. As Remus watched, the scrolls began to pile themselves a Mr Fawley's feet, the orderly stack was several feet high by the time Madam Pomfrey appeared. Her white cap was slightly askew above her agitated expression. "Why the Ministry need to check the existence of patient records before Nineteen Hundred is beyond me." she muttered as she re-pinned her cap.

Mr Fawley sighed, "We need to assure that all record keeping for all living patients is up to date, I do not need to remind you that many wizards who attended Hogwarts at the turn of the century are still alive, if they request a copy of their records we must be able to provide them with it."

"Yes yes." Madam Pomfrey tutted under her breath, "Right what's next then?" she asked and she looked up, finally noticing Remus. "Ah Professor Lupin," she said, "you'll just have to wait a minute I'm afraid, I've got your dose all ready to go in there," she gestured to the office behind her, "but as you can see it's inaccessible at the moment."

Remus poked his head around the door to see that the pile of scrolls at Mr Fawley's feet were only the beginning. The normally neat and tidy office-cum-sitting-room-cum-dispensary was a waist high sea of parchment.

On the bench that ran along the opposite wall was the familiar sight of his wolfsbane potion. Two glasses were set out on the metal tray, one larger than the other. The smaller one was a child-size dose. Thankfully there was only one small glass this year, only one werewolf enrolled at Hogwarts. Last year had been the last of students bitten during the war, two seventh year boys, both finished school with six _NEWTS_ each. Greta Reeves, the recipient of the small glass, was a tiny little thing, bitten only two years ago in a freak attack.

Now that wolfsbane was widely available and free under the National Healing Service, attacks happened so infrequently that people had almost forgotten the danger of werewolves. There was still prejudice concerning the turning into an animal part of the condition, and employers disliked the couple of days off that were necessary. But Remus definitely saw it as progress that werewolves were now thought of as inconvenient rather than life-threatening.

"I'm rather in a hurry Poppy," Remus began, but gave up when he realised the matron was not listening to him. She was too busy murmuring to herself about the pointlessness of what seemed to be some sort of inspection as she went about opening cupboards to show Mr Fawley, and his clipboard, the contents.

Mr Fawley had obviously requested to see something else because Madam Pomfrey had closed the cupboards and now leading him off to another part of the ward. Remus contemplated whether the telling off he would get from Madam Pomfrey for disturbing her century's worth of patient files would be worth the extra ten minutes he would gain in his essay marking by wading through the parchment and taking the potion. Because summoning an open topped beaker full nearly to the brim with valuable medicine certainly wasn't a good idea. He'd probably spill it, and on the scrolls filling the room no less. Definitely better to just wait he thought.

"Hello Professor," a small voice said from behind Remus. He startled and turned to see tiny Greta Reeves smiling up at him shyly. Her lank ashy hair fell into her eyes as she peered into the office too. "Is he still here then?" she asked.

"Er… Mr Fawley you mean?" Remus guessed.

"Yeah," said Greta, "he was here when Flora and I came to see Draco after dinner. Madam Pomfrey seemed pretty sick of him already."

"Who Mr Malfoy, or Mr Fawley?"

Greta grinned a little wider, "Well both really, Flora says Draco wouldn't pretend to be hurt but we heard Wood saying it was just so Slytherin didn't have to play in the storm tomorrow. But I meant Mr Fawley, he's an inspector for the National Healing Service, he introduced himself while Madam Pomfrey was off getting the gauze inventory for him."

"Oh," Remus said, he'd always thought Hogwarts hospital wing had its annual inspection over the summer holidays, he'd spent a lot more time in the ward than most students and had never come across an inspector. "Well I'm sure he's just doing his job."

Greta sat down on the end of the nearest bed, "Dad talks about him sometimes," she said, swinging her legs. She peered around Remus to make sure Mr Fawley couldn't hear her, "says he's really per-dan-tic, that's fussy right?"

"Right," Remus said, "I'd say being pedantic would be an advantage in his job. Does he inspect the infirmary at Azkaban too?"

Greta nodded, "Yep, he's been doing it since not long after Dad started out there."

Greta's father, Archibald Reeves was something of a folk hero in the wizarding world, 'Guard Archie' as the press called him, was the only remaining guard from the team that took over Azkaban in the wake of the banished Dementors two years ago.

It had taken a long time to convince the wizarding community that the removal of the Dementors was the right thing to do, most people thought that pushing for it was the reason Minister Bagnold had lost the election to Fudge several years back. Fudge who was backed financially by a suspiciously well informed Pollux Black. But even Fudge knew it needed to be done and the Wizengamot had eventually pushed the bill through to banish the creatures from the island. But the Dementors left the prison with a final gift for their human replacements. A curse that hung in the air and clung to the walls of the crumbling stone fortress.

The team of new guards had begun to crack within weeks of deployment; depression, madness, even suicide, leached through the ranks as the curse infected them. All were affected, except Archie Reeves. Healers both for the body and mind were stumped, he seemed no different to anyone else, and yet, he was just as sane as he had ever been. Ministry curse breakers cleared the prison of all malicious magic, and the impervious Archie headed the new team that returned to guard the inmates. The papers spun all sorts of nonsense about him, both good and bad; that Archie was one casting the curse, not the Dementors had been popular in the beginning, but eventually the most common story became that he was an extremely gifted Occulmens, and could therefore keep his mind safe from the curse.

Remus however thought that he knew exactly why Archie was not affected like the others. It reminded him very much of the story Hermione had told him so many years ago about Sirius's decade long imprisonment. Sirius had kept his mind because he knew he was innocent, the Dementors couldn't take that away because it wasn't a happy thought. Remus might never have made this connection if he hadn't met Greta. Archie's wife, Greta's mother, was killed in the attack that turned Greta into a werewolf; the attack occurred little more than a month before the changing of the guard. Archie Reeves was a man in mourning when he took the job at Azkaban, Remus had a feeling that the Dementors curse couldn't touch someone who was already so broken.

"How is your father?" Remus asked, as though he and Archie were old acquaintances, even thought he'd only met him once, when Remus had taken little Greta her Hogwarts letter six months ago.

"He's fine," she said, her smile slipping slightly, "same as he always is."

Remus understood, Archie was a gruff fellow, he gave Remus the impression that if it wasn't his little girl that had been bitten he'd have a rather old fashioned attitude to werewolves. Remus gave a little nod, and changed the subject, "Third moon of the term," he said, "how are you finding it, transforming at school?"

"Good," Greta said, her face brightening, "Madam Pomfrey is so kind, and it's nice to have a room to myself for the evening, it's so peaceful."

"Would that be a slight on my goddaughter?" Remus asked slyly. Flora was often reprimanded for whispering to her friends in class, she seemed almost incapable of silence.

"A little bit," Greta giggled. "She's _such_ a chatterbox Professor, even talks in her sleep!" Greta looked astounded that someone could possibly have so much to say. "Do you know, Beth said to me that she wished _she_ was a werewolf so that she could have a private room once a month and get a good night sleep?"

Remus laughed at the absurdity of such a wish. _How times had changed_, he thought. "I shared a dorm with her father for seven years," he said, "believe me, he was just as bad. I'll happily teach you and Miss Longbottom how to cast a silencing charm on your bed curtains if you'd like."

Greta's eyes lit up, "Really? That would be brilliant."

"Professor Lupin?" Mr Fawley was back, his clipboard was nowhere in sight and his glasses were tucked into his top pocket. Apparently he had finished his inspection.

Remus stood up, "How can I help?"

"I just wanted to shake your hand," he said, extending his own, "and apologise for delaying you this evening."

Remus shook his hand obligingly, "No matter," he said, "You have a job to do, I've a lot of respect for the National Healing Service, you've made my life and many others like me much easier."

Mr Fawley looked surprised, "Well, well thanks Professor, most people seem to think we take too long to get things done, and when we finally get to them we ask them to fill in far too many forms."

"I won't argue with you on the paperwork," Remus said with a chuckle, "but when the board agreed to provide free wolfsbane to anyone who wanted it, a lot of lives were saved, I think that's worth a few bits of parchment."

"Of course," Mr Fawley said.

"Right, Mr Fawley, you've done your bit, time to go." Madam Pomfrey said, walking the length of the hospital wing swiftly, the tray bearing the two potion doses in her hands, "I've got patients to see and records to update."

She scowled in the inspectors direction and he looked a little cowed, "I keep telling you Poppy, it's not personal, every facility has to have the same standard –"

"Yes yes," Madam Pomfrey interrupted, "now away with you, I must actually tend to my patients if you want to have anything to inspect next time."

Wisely, Mr Fawley didn't reply. He just smiled and nodded and turned to leave. On his way toward the exit he paused to pick up his heavy looking satchel from where it had been sitting at the door to Madam Pomfrey's office.

"Terribly sorry to keep you two waiting." the matron said, as she went about the usual pre-potion tests; she took their temperatures, swabbed a bit of cotton inside their cheeks and dropped it in a thimble-sized container of potion were it smoked and dissolved, both glasses of potion turning from murky green to clear as the swab vanished. As she worked Madam Pomfrey continued to mutter about the unjustness of it all. Apparently the Hogwarts hospital used to be exempt from N.H.S. inspection, but some minor change in the law meant it was now included. No wonder Madam Pomfrey was so grumpy.

Eventually they were allowed to swallow down the wolfsbane. Remus thought he must finally be getting used to the repulsive flavour, because it didn't seem to taste as bad as usual. It was still horrible of course, but he didn't want to throw up immediately. He supposed after twelve years one could learn to tolerate anything.

Poor Greta however was retching with her hand clamped tightly over her mouth as not to let any come back up. Remus patted her shoulder sympathetically.

After a few very liquid sounding hiccups she said hoarsely, "When I finish school I'm going to invent a way to make wolfsbane taste better." She looked so determined Remus was quite sure she would.

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Moonrise wasn't until ten forty-five that November evening, so Remus had got in a decent bit of essay marking before Professor McGonagall arrived at his door. It had become a full moon ritual during the last school year, a walk with the Headmistress from his office on the second floor to hers on the seventh.

After years of trial and error in methods of coping with his condition Remus had found that his joints recovered much more quickly from his transformation if he exercised them in the hours before the moon rose. While teaching at Hogwarts this pre-moon limbering came in the form of evening rounds with the Headmistress, on the alert for trouble makers. More often than not it just ended up being a pleasant stroll up through six floors to McGonagall's office – students looking to break the rules tended to wait until after curfew, because they knew that the teachers were on the alert around that time.

"I have good news Remus," Professor McGonagall said as they walked along the second floor corridor. "Narcissa Malfoy has decided to withdraw her complaint after all."

"That is good news." he agreed, relieved despite internally wishing he'd prioritized essay marking over letter writing earlier in the evening.

"Yes, I must say it's a weight off my mind," Professor McGonagall replied, with a sharp nod, "Still, Hagrid was foolish to expose third years to the hippogriffs before they had learned and practiced the correct protocol, _without_ the beasts present." she added, her tone suggesting she had said the words many times over in recent weeks.

"I believe Hagrid was given the position because of his enthusiasm for the subject," Remus said, "not his lesson planning ability." Remus knew that Care of Magical Creatures enrolment had been lacking of late, Professor Kettleburn had been somewhat hampered in delivering exciting lessons by his only retaining fifty percent of the limbs he was born with. It is, after all, a very hard task to wrangle a unicorn on a peg leg, and it's impossible to catch salamanders (and keep them alive) with a hook.

When Silvanus Kettleburn had reached retirement the Headmistress had decided that the subject was in need of fresh blood. Unfortunately the old adage was literal, and it was Draco Malfoy's blood courtesy of an insulted Hippogriff.

Professor McGonagall let out a huff and said "Yes, well, that was the idea but Mr Malfoy is still complaining of pain in his arm, though I suspect his captain is behind that," she mused, breaking off to look out the window to the heavy downpour beyond, "I don't envy our players out in this tomorrow," she said, "Wood is having a minor breakdown about the change in the draw due to Mr Malfoys injury."

Remus chuckled, "Yes, Harry isn't too pleased with him either, Wood I mean, he kept Harry talking so long about the game plan this morning that he was late to his defence lesson, Severus was slightly less forgiving than I might have been in the same situation."

McGonagall gave him a stern look, "Now Remus I hope you haven't been playing favourites," but the corner of her thin lips twitched. Remus knew she was remembering his first term teaching at Hogwarts the previous year. Snape had accused him of just that, and Harry had not helped matters. Twelve years old was apparently the age to rebel. But it had only taken six consecutive Saturday nights spent in detention for Harry to learn that just because his 'Uncle Moony' was his teacher didn't mean he would have an easy ride.

Remus had been somewhat dreading this year, because among the first year was his goddaughter Flora who, he had to admit he found it much more difficult to be hard on than Harry. Thankfully she seemed to have listened to Harry when he told her that 'Professor Lupin' was a right stick in the mud. Remus only knew about this view of his character because Sirius and James had taken great pleasure in re-laying Harry's warnings to Flora the previous Christmas holidays.

"Of course not Professor," Remus said. "Although I wish Severus didn't have to be quite so nasty to them."

"Once again, a man who was employed for his enthusiasm for the subject rather than his personality." Professor McGonagall said. "And he is mostly fair –'

"Potter and Black children excluded," Remus snorted, and McGonagall tutted at the interruption, but didn't comment further.

Remus winced slightly at the twinge in his ankle as they began the assent of the staircase to the third floor, he placed his next step more carefully.

While the wolfsbane potion meant Remus kept his mind during the hours the full moon was in the night sky, he still suffered aches and pains during the day preceding the moon and wasn't up to teaching. Thankfully, now that he just curled up in his wolf form and slept through the night he was normally well enough to teach by the following afternoon. Remus's role in the downfall of Voldemort, the public one, wherein he defeated the Dark Lord in single combat (rather than the actual one: being the terrified and unplanned decoy Lily Potter needed to smite the evil bastard from on high) meant that he could probably have still secured the Defence Against the Dark Arts professorship even if he needed a week off to allow for the full-moon. He didn't of course, and since he had spent the last twelve years trying to change the accepted public opinion of werewolves; lazy unemployable monsters, and while he couldn't do anything about the monster label – because it was technically true – the other two were changeable so he was always back at work as quickly as possible.

Remus had only taken the position on Hermione's urging. He knew all about her first three years at Hogwarts, thanks to her diligent records that he'd read during the war. The main difference was that Voldemort was nothing but mouldering corpse kept somewhere in the bowels of the Ministry, and so he was not up to possessing impressionable young Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. In fact the reason for the job vacancy was that Quirinus Quirrell, who had taught up until 1990, was still on his grand tour – Because he hadn't had his travel plans interrupted and commandeered by Voldemort. A retired Auror had taught during the 90-91 school year, but found children were not as easy to control as Auror cadets and resigned after only three terms. This left the Headmistress without a professor in the subject again and Hermione had begged Remus to apply before the fraudulent Gilderoy Lockhart could get his overly manicured hands on the position.

Remus was sure Hermione's insistence was only because Flora was starting Hogwarts the following year and she did not want to risk Lockhart still being in the job. Of course Harry and Ron had not flown a car into the Whomping Willow so Ron had not broken his wand, and there was no horcrux diary to open the Chamber of Secrets. Both events being necessary for the confrontation between the cowardly Lockhart and the demined Harry and Ron that lost Lockhart his memory and his job to occur. So it was possible that he would retain his position. Remus had agreed to apply for job, unsettled by the idea of such a fraud teaching children.

Mr Weasley's car hadn't appeared in their lives until the summer just past. Harry and Ron had both spent a significant part of the holidays in the dog box for gong with Fred and George in Mr Weasley's car. Not for the noble reason of rescuing a locked up wizard boy from his nasty relatives, but because they wanted to see if the car was faster in the air than Harry's new broom. James had earned himself a severe look from Molly Weasley for asking the result of the race when she pushed Harry through the floo for parental punishment following the incident.

Having said good-bye to McGonagall at the gargoyle of her office Remus made the journey back to his office alone. It was nearing ten in the evening, he always found the trip down stairs much quicker than the climb to the seventh floor, his knees didn't twinge nearly as much and he was always eagerly anticipating the very large cup of tea he would make the moment he reached his rooms.

He still had forty-five minutes til moonrise, Remus smiled to himself as he compared this dignified stroll followed by calm self-made tea, to his time as a student in the castle. At an hour to go Madam Pomfrey had bundled up the bleary headed, and tea dependant teenager. Then they had headed out into the chilly Scottish night to secure him in the shack for the full moon's monthly appearance. While the addition of his friends as company had improved the experience for his last two and half years of school remarkably, feeling so human all the way through the night was no comparison. There was also the added bonus of not having to make the dash through all kinds of highland weather, just lock his office door, stoke the fire and make a pot of tea. It was almost like any other evening – except for not needing pyjamas and the excruciating five minutes of transformation at moonrise and dawn.

Remus was extremely glad to be able to stay indoors tonight, he was far too old to be out on a November night in a downpour like this one.

Remus was on the third floor when it happened. He heard rustling and quick footsteps, but thinking it only an out of bed student he was taken completely by surprise when suddenly there were ropes binding his ankles. He waved his left arm madly to try and keep his balance while his right hand scrabbled inside his cardigan for his wand.

"I don't think so." said a voice that Remus really didn't _want_ to recognise. It was accompanied by a firm grip on the wrist of his wand-questing hand, and a sinister chuckle that made Remus think of detention and reprimands long past.

"Oh Christ." Remus muttered and the laughter increased.

"That's the spirit Moony!" said James's cheery voice.

"Good grief, you're both here." Remus said, somewhat horrified at the castles lacking security.

Remus felt a strong twinge of regret as he realised that the cup of tea he'd been looking forward to, and his lovely cosy rug, were going to go un-drunk and un-curled up on this evening.

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_Review? _

_Mrs J. xx _


	2. Chapter 2

The rain was almost horizontal as the three men made their way across the sloping lawn towards the Whomping Willow. Remus's cloak was already wet through and his feet slid on the soaking grass. This was not how he imagined spending this evening. "Recapturing their youth" Sirius had insisted – capturing a bloody cold was more like it. Remus already felt weak and shivery.

Finally they reached the willow's violently swaying branches; it was hard to tell if it was the tree's more vicious nature, or if its bare limbs were just flailing in the high wind.

"Mobilicorpus," Remus said, as he directed his wand at a fallen branch, but instead of it jumping from the lawn to prod at the knot in the trunk that would seize the tree, it gave a feeble sort of waver before falling back to earth. Remus's wand arm felt heavy and another violent shudder shimmied up his spine, a shudder that seemed to be from within and not caused by the chill rain. James's arm clapped around Remus's sodden shoulders as he swayed. One thing he loved about the Wolfsbane was that it generally prevented such severe symptoms; generally, however, Remus wouldn't be using magic while standing in icy rainstorms an hour before moonrise, so apparently he'd moved beyond reasonable expectations.

"You right Rem?" James asked, chivvying him towards the gap in the roots; Sirius must have seen to the freezing of the willow while Remus was distracted because it was quite still.

Remus went along without out a fuss. The tunnel below might not be as warm and comfortable as his office but it would at least be dry. He shimmied down through the tunnel entrance, shivering as rain water caught in the collar of his cloak was dislodged by the movement and trickled down his back. The hunch-backed journey down the passage was not as horrible as Remus had been expecting, though he was ready to tolerate quite a bit, given the promise of a soft, if horribly dusty, bed at the end of the tunnel.

Remus didn't have breath for talking as the three of them moved along. He felt remarkably unfit all of a sudden, and made a noise halfway between a cough and a laugh. As many times as he'd claimed to have the flu on the day after a full moon, it would be just what he deserved if it turned out to be true. James and Sirius were in excellent spirits however.

"Sorry to interrupt your boring evening Moony," Sirius called back to him, "I'd been trying to think how to celebrate my birthday for weeks, then Prongs suggested this."

"Your memory must be going in your old age Padfoot, it was your idea to come to Hogwarts," James said.

"Ha-ha," Sirius laughed sarcastically, "Whatever, accompanying you seemed like a grand way to spend the thirty fourth anniversary of the most important day in history."

"And we haven't done anything fun in ages," James added, "don't ever get married Moony, I mean it's lovely and everything, but there is definitely a lot less …."

He trailed off and Sirius piped up from in front, "Spontaneity?"

"Exactly," said James, "Spontaneity,"

"In need of a stag night Prongs?" Remus mumbled, though his intended dry tone was lost to yet another teeth-chattering shiver.

Sirius groaned loudly at the overused line but James sighed nostalgically, "Ah," he said happily, "see, an oldie but a goody, excellent form Rem."

Remus smiled despite himself. He found it incredibly ironic that both James and Sirius were married, with a kid each, and sensible desk jobs, and had been for a decade, while he, cardigan-wearer and teapot aficionado had spent most of that time traveling Europe, meeting interesting and important people, and helping raise money and awareness for werewolf rights. Not to mention the attention he received from women for being either the wizard who killed Voldemort or that well-spoken, well-educated and gentlemanly werewolf. He'd never understand why this seemed to hold a fascination for some women, but he wasn't going to complain about it. Remus had definitely gotten over his reluctance in regard to dating. He wasn't an idiot after all, and even fame seekers and danger lovers could be fun on a short term basis.

The three men reached the tunnel exit after what seemed like an ungodly amount of time to be crouched over while walking. Remus's back made the most horrible grinding crunch when he stood upright on the dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack. It made him feel a bit better that both James and Sirius were moving gingerly too.

It turned out that while James and Sirius were determined to relive their youth, they too needed more creature comforts these days. The bulky backpack that Sirius had been carrying contained a teapot and cups, milk and sugar, as well as a dozen beer, three large bags of crisps and a container of Lily's baking – jammy-dodgers abound.

Remus was still coughing from James's poor effort at dust removal from the four-poster's mattress as they set up a sort of camp on the floor of the upstairs bedroom. It wasn't long before it settled though and Sirius produced clean blankets from his pack, one of which Remus gratefully accepted. He rolled himself in it and propped himself up against the headboard of the bed. James sat at his feet, leaning on the tall corner post and Sirius lounged on the floor in a pile of all the cushions he'd been able to find in the house.

Wrapped in a blanket with a steaming cup of tea in his hands, Remus was feeling much better, and realised this hadn't been such a terrible idea after all. He did miss his friends every full moon - not the necessity of them, but this part, sitting together, talking. James and Sirius had never really been ones for heart to heart conversations (unless drunk) or for sitting quietly in any form, so Remus had always enjoyed this forced calm, even when he had been frightened and ill with the impending moonrise.

James and Sirius had both cracked beers, and Remus experienced a moment of extreme fondness for his friends that they'd remembered, and gone to the effort to supply him with tea.

"So, how's the first few months of a Flora-free home been?" Remus asked Sirius.

"Predictable," Sirius said, "honestly, quiet and dull, I can't wait for the holidays. Hermione's at work so much, but I never really noticed until Flora was gone."

"You get used to it," James said, "although Lily's not nearly as much of a work-a-holic as Hermione."

Sirius smiled, "I shouldn't complain, having the place to myself most evenings is pretty nice, absence makes the heart grow fonder and all of that. I certainly don't miss Flora's mile-a-minute storytelling. Merlin that girl can talk!"

James and Remus both laughed, and James said, "It's a bit like karma really, isn't it?"

Remus nodded in agreement, "Her teachers are constantly grateful that she only inherited your looks and loquaciousness, rather than your attitude to authority."

Sirius grinned, "That's what she wants them to think, crafty little mite." He shook his head, "I wish she'd have latched on to Harry or Neville as role models though, instead of Draco, he's far too cunning."

"Be glad she doesn't look up to Harry," James laughed. "He, Ron and Neville are going to be the death of me." He took a large gulp from his bottle and continued, sounding rather tormented, "I had an irate Molly Weasley in the floo to me every other night this summer. The three of them have been going at it with her twins all holidays: practical jokes, jinxes, hexes… half the time I don't know whether to tell him off or commend him for his inventive spell work."

"What did you say about karma?" Sirius asked innocently. James flipped him two fingers, and Sirius laughed, clinking his bottle against James's. "Aren't we supposed to want them to take after us?" he said.

"Why is Molly mad at you?" Remus asked James, "If Ron is involved too, and does she call Frank about Neville?"

James nodded, "Yeah she does, but she insists that Harry is the 'ring-leader', though she's always saying that she swears her twins are part poltergeist, and it's only within her power to control them, so it's mine and Lily's job to stop them having someone to spar with." He frowned for a moment, "I agree with her, Fred and George are mental, they have good hearts and all of that, and well, they're bloody brilliant beaters so they're definitely not all bad but hell, they're more trouble than we ever were."

"We never had competition," Sirius put in, "Harry has your nose for mischief, and Ron must have the same misbehaviour gene as his brothers, and Neville … well," he chucked, "I'm not sure what happened there. It horrifies Frank though. I love seeing his face when he gets a letter from McGonagall about the latest misdemeanour Neville's been involved in."

"Harry and Draco aren't getting along at the moment," Remus said to James, "they had an argument in the middle of my Defence class because Draco's injured arm means a change in the Quidditch draw. From what I could figure out Harry thinks Flint put him up to it, so Slytherin won't have to play in this storm tomorrow."

"They're always fighting about something," James said, dismissively, "never could just get along, those two, there always has to be some little spat."

"Not normally about Quidditch though," Sirius said with a frown.

A look of concern crossed James's face, "You're right," he said, "it's normally teasing or more bloody practical jokes…"

Remus shrugged; in his opinion, brooms might still be a sore point, but he wasn't inclined to worry. Draco had grown up at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with his mother, and frequent visits to Sirius and Hermione's house in Godric's Hollow often as a child. Narcissa and Hermione had maintained a friendship since the war, something that baffled Remus, but this was where Flora had decided that cousin Draco was the be-all and end-all of sibling substitutes. Godric's Hollow meant close proximity to the Potters, and Narcissa even managed to suppress her upbringing enough to share tea with the Muggleborn Lily. Draco and Harry had played on brooms in the trees behind the Potter's house as often as they were allowed, and were both very good. However when Harry had made the Gryffindor team in first year – the unexpected result of Gryffindor and Slytherin house rivalry leading to an airborne race and chase – their friendship had suffered. In second year Draco tried out and made the Slytherin team – still an impressive feat – but Remus suspected he would never get over Harry being chosen the year before. Not when the pair of them had always been equals in their forest games as children.

"Draco has a bit of a rough time I think," Remus said, "I never see him with any of his year mates, just Flora occasionally, and his Father's parole was just turned down, I imagine that's hard for him."

"He doesn't even know Lucius," Sirius said, shortly, "he's been in prison Draco's whole life. And is a horrible wanker," he added.

"That doesn't mean he doesn't care about him," Remus replied. "The kids have no real idea about the awful stuff that happened during the war; half the students think I strolled up to Voldemort on the street and AK'd him right there. It's all just stories to them."

James smiled. "Thank goodness for that."

An enormous gust of wind shook the little house then, whistling eerily through the dilapidated walls and intruding on the cosy atmosphere they had built in the upstairs bedroom. A chill swept over Remus again; the strangely strong symptoms had returned now that his teacup was empty. There were goosebumps lifting all over him, so he drew the blanket tighter around his shoulders and held out his mug.

Sirius seized it at once, consternation flitting over his face. "You look pale Moony, are you okay?"

"Feel a bit odd to tell you the truth," Remus admitted, "How long til moonrise?" he asked, unable to read his own watch through layers of blanket.

"Five minutes," Sirius said, after checking the time. He poured more tea and knelt up from the floor to pass it back. "You'll have to scull it," he warned with a smile.

Remus wrapped his fingers around the mug gladly. The joints in his fingers felt stiff and sore, and the heat of the ceramic eased it, but as he lifted the drink to his lips instead of the lovely aroma of sweet milky tea he was expecting, the sharp tanniny smell was repellent.

"What's wrong with it?" he said, sniffing at the fragrant steam again and feeling an annoyed grumble in the back of his throat. Why would Sirius mess with his tea? He sniffed again, aware that as he did so there was movement at the foot of the bed – James had got to his feet.

"Moony?" Sirius said softly and Remus looked to see that he'd gotten up too. Both he and James were standing a pace further away from Remus than they had been, and for some reason they looked frightened. Without warning the annoyed grumble worked its way up Remus's throat again, louder this time. Why were his friends acting so strangely? Why did they smell better than his tea?

When the noise came again, it was no longer a grumble but a snarl; he felt his lips curl back to bare his teeth and then his vision blurred as horrific bone-breaking pain lanced through him. He heard a thud and opened his previously clenched eyes - the world was sideways. His spine seemed to twist inside him and Remus realised that he'd fallen from the bed.

"Remus!" a human shout registered as the pain consumed him. It was the last thing he remembered before another growling snarl ripped from his chest and the world turned grey.

* * *

The next thing Remus was aware of was a constant dripping – water plopping repeatedly right next to his ear, which made him aware of the unnatural thirst crawling across his tongue. There was the howling of high wind in trees, but the air was cool and fresh, and smelled wet and earthy. He flexed his fingers, and his nails dragged through damp dirt, then there were hushed nervous voices nearby.

"Moony,"

"Remus, mate,"

"Are you with us?"

Remus's eyes flew open, Sirius and James were both on their feet looking down at him. They were barely more than dark silhouettes, lit from behind by the dull dappled morning light filtering through the trees in the Forbidden Forest. Remus could just make out a purple shadow blooming around Sirius's left eye, and James's right leg was wrapped in conjured bandages, but most disturbingly both of his friends had their wands pointing directly at him.

"What the hell?" Remus rasped, as he struggled to sit up. His hips and shoulders bore a deep heavy ache, one he hadn't felt in twelve years. His mouth was parched and horribly metallic tasting, and his lips felt cracked. All these things flashed through his mind in a moment, before a very worrying throbbing made itself known in the region of his abdomen. Seriously injured, his brain supplied. The situation suggested something quite obvious, but surely, surely that couldn't be right.

He looked up at James and Sirius again, "I didn't…" he began fearfully, and when there was no immediate reassurance, a rolling wave of nausea surged through him, his heart crashed violently around his ribcage. "I-I didn't," he repeated, the words shaking with the terror that was building inside him.

"You didn't take your potion last night?" James asked, Remus recognised the tone of voice at once, it was James's Auror interrogation voice. Something deep in Remus's heart twanged painfully at that. As if he'd be so careless, how could James think such a thing?

"I did," Remus said hastily, forcing his dried out tongue to comply, "I did, I had to wait to get it, Madam Pomfrey was busy," his head pounded heavily, "Christ, is anyone hurt?"

Sirius crouched down beside him, "Only me and Prongs," he smiled, just barely, "it's alright Moony, just like the old days. We're a bit banged up and you feel like shit."

"It's so lucky we were here," James said, he sounded shaken up. "We need to get up to the castle as soon as you're ready - you need more healing than Padfoot or I can manage."

"Greta!" Remus said suddenly, his own injuries were nothing compared with the thought of an adolescent werewolf loose in Hogwarts. "Flora's friend," he added looking at Sirius, "we took our potion at the same time yesterday evening. If the batch was faulty… she sleeps in the hospital wing on full moon nights but those doors…" Remus trailed off, frightened at what they might find in the castle.

"The kids," James said at once, his face grey and drawn, "come on, we better –"

"If they were in the tower they'll be fine," Remus said, "Minerva had all the entrances to the common rooms safe-guarded just in case something like this ever happened."

Sirius nodded, tight-lipped. James just looked ill. "We're going to have to stretcher you up there Rem, we've bound up your wounds best we could but you were mad last night, mad. We could barely –" James broke off, looking concerned.

"You did a right number on yourself mate," Sirius said, "so we reckon it's best not to move until Poppy has worked her magic." Sirius twitched his wand and a blanket appeared from nowhere to tuck itself tightly around Remus.

Remus couldn't see any of his body now, he was swaddled up like an infant in the scratchy blanket. At a second glance he recognised them as old ones from the shrieking shack. "How bad is it?" he asked.

Sirius and James shared a fleeting look, their faces grim. "I don't remember the wolf ever being that insane," James said soberly, then he looked toward the school, "Come on, we need to make sure everything's alright up there."

* * *

"Remus! Oh, dear, what on earth? Mr Potter, Mr Black what are you doing here?"

The shocked voice of Madam Pomfrey jerked Remus from the drowsiness that was trying to overcome him. He must have actually drifted off he realised slowly, because he had no memory of the trip up to the castle.

As Madam Pomfrey leaned in close to his face Remus felt detached from the whole situation. His eyelid was pulled back and the tip of her lit wand blinded him. There was a fuzzy buzzing in his head that was very welcoming, like an old friend. He supposed in a way it was.

In the days before Wolfsbane it had been the best part of the twenty four hours surrounding the full moon, the way he slept so heavily. Nothing penetrated it- not pain from injury, not worry that someone would figure out his secret, not guilt for the close calls he and his friends had while roaming irresponsibly about the forest. Just blissful nothingness. He tried to fight it this time, and even as the warm waves of sleep crashed over him he attempted to focus, but his concerns were becoming a disjointed jumble; the potion, the pain radiating through his abdomen, the confused panicked voices of Poppy, James and Sirius.

Little Greta, he thought suddenly, was she hurt? Had she hurt others?

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	3. Chapter 3

_**A****/N**: Miracle-Beta Emily has returned! Just for two chapters, due to a broken foot. I'm a horrible person for benefiting from her pain and immobility. But all you lovely readers are too, so we're all as guilty as each other. :) Please enjoy this properly edited chapter._

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The next time Remus opened his eyes the scene was very different. There was no flurry of activity or panic; it was silent, peaceful even. He was still in the hospital wing, but on a comfortable, if narrow, bed, rather than the unforgiving litter James had conjured in the forest.

It was night time again, or at least to judge by the dim light it was. A lamp was lit at his bedside and next to it there was monstrous box of Honeydukes' finest. The gift tag hanging conveniently in his view read: _Love and kisses, from Padfoot and Prongs_.

Remus smiled at the absurdity of his friends. He tried to hoist himself up onto his elbow to reach the water jug that also sat on the bedside table, but noticed as he moved that his midriff was heavily bandaged, and there was a sharp needle-like pain as the muscle beneath pulled. He hissed and froze, afraid to move further in case he damaged anything.

"Careful there Mr Lupin," said a cheerful voice from the other side of his bed. "Poppy says you're to keep still."

Remus turned his head to see a scruffy-looking young woman sitting in his visitor chair. She had bright pink hair and wore reddish lace up boots that were creased with wear. He only noticed her boots because they were propped up on the rail beside his bed, right next to his hip. There was a magazine open in her lap, which she had obviously been reading until he woke up.

This odd girl grinned at him. Her heavy boots hit the hard hospital floor noisily as she hastily sat upright. It was only then that Remus noticed she was wearing the red robes of an Auror - they clashed horribly with her hair, but the unusual boots seemed to match quite well.

"Hello?" he ventured tentatively.

"Wotcher," she said, standing to attention and extending a hand for him to shake. She seemed to think better of it as Remus struggled to move enough to reach it and retracted her hand. "Sorry," she said, with an awkward grimace. "Did you want water? Poppy said you'd be thirsty when you woke up."

Remus nodded, watching in confusion as she moved quickly around the bed to pour him a drink. She held the glass out, closer this time, and Remus managed to free his hands from the bedding to take it.

He gulped it back greedily, then before he'd even asked, the young Auror filled the cup again. Remus smiled gratefully at her and threw the refill back gladly. After pausing for breath he said, "Thanks."

She shrugged happily and returned to her seat, "No problem." she picked up her magazine again, apparently not having the desire to explain her presence.

Remus looked bemusedly at the cover of her reading material for a while, the perplexing word _Kerrang! _was splashed across the front, Remus assumed this was the publication's name. Below this was a picture of a homeless looking blond man who was holding a guitar glaring angrily out at the world.

"Sorry," Remus said, feeling quite lost, "I think I'm missing something here, why is there an Auror at my bedside?"

"I'm your guard," she said, "well, I'm your trainee guard, I'm a year two, my seniors are Black and Longbottom but they wanted to go home for the night, so I'm here to make sure no one else tries to do you in. I'm Auror Tonks." she finished proudly.

"Tonks?" Remus repeated the familiar name.

Auror Tonks nodded. "Yes, _that_ Tonks, my mum is Andromeda, Sirius's cousin. I think we've met before, years ago though, I was only a kid."

Remus nodded again, "I think I remember," he said. Suddenly the pressing concerns he'd had about Greta Reeves came flooding back. "What happened with Miss Reeves," he asked, "were they able to contain her?"

Tonks looked grim, but before she could answer the sudden scraping squeak of the curtains surrounding Remus's bed being pulled back interrupted their conversation.

In a flurry of scarlet robes Tonks was back on her feet with her wand drawn. Remus did a double take when he looked in her direction to see not the young heart-shaped face, framed by shocking pink hair, but instead, a wizened woman with cropped iron grey locks and a frown of steely determination. He fumbled automatically for his own wand, patting at his chest and sleeve but his hospital pyjamas had no internal wand pockets. He wasn't sure if he wanted to defend himself from the curtain puller or the woman that could change her face at will – was she even an Auror?

And then, completely oblivious to Remus's sudden panic Madam Pomfrey bustled around the drawn curtain holding a tray stacked with bandages and beakers of smoking potion. "You're awake then?" she said kindly, not even looking in Tonks's grey-haired direction.

"Er yes," Remus said, "Poppy, what happened?" His eyes flicked to Tonks who still looked like a combat-hardened crone. "Am I under arrest?"

"Arrest? Oh no, I shouldn't think so, dear," Madam Pomfrey said absently. "Now, how do your wounds feel? I must say these ones tested me, you were never so focused on one area as a teenager."

"Er, sorry about that?" Remus said, weakly. He grasped the topic, in hopes of solid information, "But I'm going to be okay?"

Madam Pomfrey looked a little offended, and her tone was stiff as she replied, "Of course you are. Now we just need to change your dressing, so shirt up if you please, Remus."

Remus, suddenly self-conscious about being healed while undressed in front of the face-changing Tonks looked to his left, but the Auror had vanished. Remus wondered if she could change herself invisible as well as into different people.

"Come along Remus," Madam Pomfrey said, "I've got a few more patients to tend to, the game today was a complete disaster."

"Right, right," Remus muttered, feeling quite overwhelmed. He pulled up his pyjama shirt and lay still as the matron stood over him. She waved her wand, murmuring under her breath, and the bandages loosened; to take his mind of the increase in pain Remus asked, "Poppy, what happened at the full moon? Was the potion faulty? Did Greta's dose malfunction too?"

"No dear, just yours." She paused her complicated wand pattern to spare him a glance, "I'm afraid no one knows what happened yet, but since your dose didn't work and Miss Reeves's did, the Aurors are assuming you were targeted specifically. I've run every test I can think of but there is nothing in your system that suggests you've been cursed or poisoned." She went back to work, and Remus felt little a series of stabbing pinches across the skin of his stomach. Madam Pomfrey continued to speak, "Now that you're awake, Professor Snape will want to speak with you regarding more advanced curses. He and Auror Black had very noisy disagreement in his dungeon yesterday; I believe Auror Black was under the impression the professor had tampered with the potion before he delivered it to the hospital wing. "

"Oh Christ," murmured Remus. "So everyone knows about this then?"

"No, the Headmistress was adamant it should be kept private; she's viewing it as an assassination attempt. The students will be told you have flu."

"Surely that's a bit excessive," Remus sputtered, "assassination I mean, flu is fine."

"I don't think so. You weren't in danger of dying last night, but as you well know, the law is clear: any wolf who attacks a human will be put to death."

Remus did know. He had never fought against it because wolves who attacked people lived outside the law anyway, and Wolfsbane had been so available for so long that it wasn't an issue. On personal level Remus knew that if he ever attacked another person he wouldn't want to keep living anyway.

"Minerva thinks someone wanted you arrested, and executed."

Remus gulped. He supposed that was possible, although horribly thoughtless to the people he could have hurt. Remus's public profile had earned him plenty of enemies over the years. Voldemort's followers obviously had a few issues with him, and were deranged enough, but most of them were locked up. There were social enemies too, ones that still saw werewolves as dangerous, and Remus had to admit that this was proof that they were right, but how on earth would anyone have gotten to his dose of potion? His dose, and not Greta's. That didn't make any sense.

The bandages around his middle cinched in tight again and Madam Pomfrey said, "Okay, you need to take this for blood replenishing. Open up," she added as she drove a deep measuring spoon towards his mouth. He complied resignedly, feeling like a toddler. "And this for reducing the inflammation in your joints, and this for pain," the matron reeled off, with two following spoonfuls, "and this last one is a bit nasty I'm afraid, but it's to keep the other three from damaging your stomach lining."

Remus just held his mouth open and then swallowed the moment the smoking liquid hit his tongue.

"Don't let it come back up." Madam Pomfrey said sternly, as though he could control the urge to vomit with willpower alone.

To his surprise he could. The potion cocktail heaved and roiled in his gut but as long as he concentrated it didn't make a reappearance.

Madam Pomfrey left him shortly after that, on to her next patient. They must have been bad Quidditch injuries if the players had to stay in overnight, Remus thought. But before he could start worrying about any of his students, Tonks peeped through the curtains. Her face was young again but oddly she had her eyes scrunched closed.

"You dressed, Mr Lupin?"

"Yes," he replied, his concerns lifting slightly at her silly expression. "I was never undressed," he said as she plonked down in her chair again.

"That won't be how I tell it back at the office," she said as she picked up her magazine once more, "the girls will be green." She grinned widely at him, "They'll be begging me for every detail when I tell them that while on a top secret mission I happened to come across the great Remus Lupin, shirtless."

Remus snorted, "I'm not sure whether to be concerned or flattered," he said, "although, since you're imagining the whole thing, be kind," he flapped a hand in illustration, "you know, plenty of broad muscular shoulders and rippling abs."

Tonks burst out laughing. "You're an excellent sport, Mr Lupin," she said happily.

"Remus," he said. "If you insist on pretending to ogle me, then please don't address me like a student would." He wrinkled his nose, "it's a bit creepy."

"Who says I'm pretending?"

Remus blinked. "Er, your Auror code of ethics?"

"Oh blast," she huffed, but she smiled once more and said, "Pretending it is, then."

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_Reviews are love xx_


	4. Chapter 4

_Thanks to Emily for the perfect, and sadly, final beta. I hope you enjoy being a reader again xx_

_Thanks to all of you for favouriting/following/commenting it keeps me motivated. You may have noticed my update speed had dropped off since 169 - I have a one year old son who demands most of my time now, so 3-4 weeks will be the average new chapter schedule. _

_Mrs J xx _

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Remus had fallen into a doze before dawn; the rustle of Auror Tonks's page turning and the sleep snuffles of other hospital patients had faded into the background as the weight of his ongoing exhaustion fell over him. He was sure it would have happened much faster if his mind, tired and wrung out as it was, had not kept asking the same circular questions- _Why would someone try to hurt him? Did he know the attacker? What if it was all just an accident? _But eventually he did fall asleep, heavy and absent of dreams as it always had been in the years before Wolfsbane.

Remus was woken hours later by a hissing voice he knew at once, "Pssst, Uncle Moony, are you awake?"

It was Harry, Remus was sure, but when he opened his eyes expecting to see the boy standing next to his bed he was confused for a moment, because there was no one there. Even the Auror was gone. Remus squinted a little in the bright morning light and then the whisper came again, from the other side of the privacy drapes. "_Psssst,_ Uncle Moony."

Then the curtain was drawn back in a flourish to reveal Harry, lying on his side in the next bed; there was a spectacular bruise spreading across his cheek and his head was heavily bandaged, but he looked alert and his normal boisterous self.

"Fancy seeing you here Professor," Harry said, with a rather ironic grin.

"Harry!" Remus said, eyeing Harry's bandage turban worriedly, "What happened to you?"

"Stray bludger," Harry muttered, his smile slipped away instantly, and his eyebrows pulled down as he continued sourly, "still, I'd rather be in here than in the common room today."

"Oh dear," Remus said, Harry's long expression said it all. Gryffindor had lost the match.

"It's all Draco's fault." Harry said petulantly to the ceiling, having flopped over onto his back. His teasing mood seemed to have evaporated. "If we'd been playing Slytherin like we were supposed to, it would have been a more even match, the wind was so strong, I kept getting blown off course. Bloody Diggory's the size of a beater, how am I supposed to compete with that?"

Remus thought this was a bit extreme; Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff seeker, was a sixth year, and a tall one, but he still looked slight compared to the stocky traditional beaters' build of Fred and George Weasley. "I'm sure Diggory would be no match for you if you weren't playing in a hurricane," Remus said dutifully.

Harry smiled a just a little, "Yeah, Wood says we can still come back, as long as Slytherin loses to Hufflepuff," Harry frowned, "or was it Ravenclaw? I dunno, he's hopeful anyway."

"Good. He's an excellent captain." Remus said, truthfully. The only person he'd ever seen with matching Quidditch captaincy zeal was James Potter - James, whose tactics had once included his team and the reserve flying blindfolded so as to gain 'a feel for the air.' In reality it had gained his team several concussions and a broken wrist but since James had led Gryffindor to three cup wins in a row his methods weren't really questioned.

Harry interrupted Remus's reminiscing, "Why are you here? Did something happen at the moon?"

Remus narrowed his eyes at the innocent expression Harry was now wearing, "Why do I get the impression I shouldn't tell you?"

Harry stuck out his bottom lip, "'Cause I'm a kid and no one ever trusts me with _anything_."

Remus hid a smile. "I'm sure," he said seriously. "I have a feeling that if you were allowed to know your father would have told you already. I'm assuming he and Lily have come to make sure you're alright?"

"Yes," Harry sighed, "They came, Dad said the same as always, _'it's a criminal investigation, I'd lose my job if I told you.'_ But he still tells Mum." Harry looked quite perplexed at the injustice of it all.

"That's because your mother won't share it with Ron and Neville as soon as she gets the chance," Remus said.

"I'll keep it to myself, I _promise,_" Harry pleaded, "and you don't work for the DMLE, you wouldn't get in trouble for telling me," he added shrewdly.

"First, don't lie," Remus said, but he was smiling. "I think it's wonderful that you have such close friends - you shouldn't have to keep anything from them. Second, I don't know what the hell is going on anyway," he muttered, a little frustratedly, "so I couldn't tell you if I wanted to. I've been asleep since Saturday morning and there's an Auror guarding me. Do you know more than that?"

"Yes," Harry said at once, his inability to keep a secret springing forth, "I know Sirius and Snape had a duel in the dungeons because Snape tried to poison you, and I know that Mr Longbottom made Sirius and Dad go home because they were being '_unprofessional tossers,'_" he snickered as he quoted the words obviously said by Frank. "Neville and Ron were listening outside the dungeon, apparently there's frog guts _everywhere_." Harry said gleefully, "I don't know if that was Sirius or Dad but someone exploded a barrel of the leftovers from the disembowelling lesson."

Remus coughed to hide the laughter that was trying to escape. He and Severus had a reasonable working relationship, but the man was just nasty. Composed once more Remus said, "Okay, well, I doubt very much that Professor Snape tried to poison me. His job means far too much to him for that - and also if he really did want me poisoned, with his skill I'd definitely be dead."

"That's what Neville said." Harry looked disappointed. "So then why are you in here - if not poison then what? Did someone attack you?"

"You could say that," Remus said. "I think we should wait until I've talked to Sirius and Frank before we make any more guesses."

"Fine," Harry said, resignedly.

The quiet click-clack of Madam Pomfrey's sensible half-inch heels approaching made them both turn. Harry let the curtain flutter back into place and Remus noted mentally that he should praise him for his charm work. Lily would be pleased that all the effort she put in to tutoring Harry in the holidays was paying off.

"Breakfast time," the matron said, as she came around the curtain. "I wasn't sure if your appetite would be normal, or more like it used be after transformations so I have porridge or beef broth." she magicked a tray across Remus's knees and raised the bed slightly, before putting the two bowls down in front of him.

To Remus's disquiet the porridge made him more nauseous than the myriad of potions he'd taken in the wee hours, and he grimaced at Madam Pomfrey. "It's like being a teenager all over again," he said half-heartedly, picking up his spoon and starting on the meaty broth.

"Never mind, dear," Madam Pomfrey said, whisking the porridge away. "We'll get it all sorted for next month."

As Remus ate he wondered where his guard had gone. Auror Tonks, had still been there flipping pages in her magazine when he'd gone back to sleep. She was a bewildering thing. He'd almost come to the conclusion that he'd imagined her change in appearance - a bizarre vision brought on by dehydration and exhaustion - but even without the face changing, she seemed far too carefree, and far too cheerful to be a trainee Auror. The few that Remus had meet during James and Sirius's career were either jumpy and eager to please, or cocky and full of it. Perhaps Tonks was a little cocky, if he had to categorize - but much more relaxed, as if she was already comfortable in the role. Perhaps that's what made a good Auror… Remus had no idea if the few other trainees he'd met had made it all the way to qualification or not.

As though thinking about her had conjured her into existence, Remus suddenly heard her voice. There was the creak of the main hospital doors opening and the sounds of student babble, and then Tonks said brusquely, "Auror Tonks, state your purpose for visiting the hospital."

Remus imagined that she was barring the person's entry, her Auror I.D and perhaps wand on display.

"Er," stuttered the voice of a student, "um, I'm here to see Harry Potter."

"And your name?" Tonks asked, her tone still sharp.

"Fred Weasley."

Remus felt his eyebrows lift in surprise - after James's words in the shack, Remus wouldn't have expected either Weasley twin to be visiting Harry on his sick bed.

"Keep your hands where I can see them." Tonks cautioned, as Fred Weasley's silhouette passed by Remus's curtained-off bed, and stopped just beside Harry's.

"Harry?" the boy said, he didn't sound confrontational, quite neutral in fact.

"What do you want?" Harry asked rudely, and Remus wondered if Mrs Weasley might have been right to look to James for help.

"I," Fred paused. "Look, Ron and Neville said you reckon I hit that bludger at you on purpose."

There was silence and Remus felt a twinge of guilt for eavesdropping so blatantly.

"I don't know," Harry said mutinously, "you and George have been such pricks to us this term."

"You haven't exactly been little angels." Fred countered, his voice becoming more biting.

"I don't know," Harry repeated, but he lost a little of his anger as he continued, "but your aim is always so bloody good and then one minute you call me a thief and the next there's a bludger in my ear."

It was quiet again and then Fred said, "Thanks I guess, but my aim is good when there aren't gale-force winds interfering. I was aiming for Diggory. Wood's already had a go at me."

"Nasty," Harry said with relative sympathy.

"Yeah, worse than McGonagall," Fred said.

"I know, at least you know McGonagall isn't going to jinx you," Harry agreed, "I think Wood gets close sometimes."

"Yeah," Fred laughed. Remus was surprised, he really couldn't understand how they could be so hostile and then have it vanish completely; a common enemy probably helped, he reasoned. "So you're not going to tell anyone that I did it on purpose?" Fred asked.

"Only if you stop calling me a thief," Harry bargained.

Fred let out a little frustrated sigh, "Well then, _give it back_ and we will."

"It's rightfully mine," Harry said, "and you stole it in the first place so you can't talk."

"Bugger off!" Fred said angrily.

"Can't, can I?" Harry shot back spitefully, his voice rising, "'cause I'm still injured from when you hit that bludger at me and made me miss the snitch!"

"That's quite enough," said Madam Pomfrey's strict voice abruptly, "Mr Weasley, visiting time is over. Please see yourself out."

"Mr Potter," she continued, obviously agitated, "while you might be feeling well enough to shout, others are not. Be more considerate."

"Yes Matron," Harry said quietly.

* * *

Remus knew better than to try and talk to Harry. He could still hear him mumbling tersely through the curtain, and Fred had left a good half an hour ago. On the bright side, when Auror Tonks knew he was awake she had moved back to where he could see her, so at least Remus had a distraction from the disturbing information that Harry stole things because he thought he _deserved_ them.

In an effort to keep his mind off Harry and his adolescent troubles, Remus asked Tonks the first thing he could think of - which, on reflection, should probably have been about dastardly potion-fiddling assassins, but instead ended up being about their brief meeting during the night.

"Did you really turn yourself into an old woman last night, when Poppy came in with the medicine?"

Tonks nodded. Remus wasn't sure if it was just the brighter light of daytime but her hair didn't seem as pink today, and beneath her eyes the pale skin showed the merest trace of a shadow. He wondered how long she'd been on duty. "I'm a metamorphmagus," she said, "I can change my appearance at will. It's one of the reasons I decided to be an Auror, so that I could have a job where it's legitimately useful, rather than just a party trick."

"I've never heard of that," Remus said apologetically. It wasn't often he came across a condition or ability that he hadn't encountered in the last decade. Being on crusade for the minority meant he'd met a lot of afflicted, infected or affected people. Metamorphmagus was a new one, although he supposed that an ability that by definition meant you could change the way you looked probably wasn't that hard to hide.

"I'm not surprised," Tonks said, "I'm a quarter of this century's population."

"Goodness," Remus said, impressed, "rare."

She smiled and seemed pleased with Remus's reaction. Remus noticed she had a new magazine today: still the same publication, but there was a different homeless looking man on the cover of this one. He had long dark wavy hair, the frayed cuff of his checked flannel shirt hid most of his hand from view, but he appeared to be trying to swallow a microphone.

This _Kerrang!_ thing was obviously about music, and muggle music at that, something Remus was quite fond of. He owned a Rolling Stones album, one of the many greatest hits collections, as well as Ziggy Stardust, Dark Side of the Moon and – like every good Brit – a beaten up old Beatles record, but he didn't recognise the mish-mash of words that graced the cover as names of musical groups, which he assumed they must be, as he certainly couldn't understand why anyone would want a recipe for jam made from pearls. Remus was on the verge of asking about it, when his curtain was drawn back to reveal Frank Longbottom and Sirius, both dressed in full Auror kit.

Even at thirty four years old, with a decade and a half of Auroring behind him, Sirius still managed to look uncomfortable in his uniform. The buttons that ran in a row down the front were open enough to show his shirt beneath, a shirt with its collar open and no tie. He looked quite dishevelled standing next to the neatly buttoned, Winsor-knotted and freshly pressed Frank Longbottom. Sirius's hair was less shaggy and shorter than it had been in their youth, but again looked unkempt when compared to the combed back tidy waves of his partner. Obviously his work was good enough to make up for his lacking presentation, or perhaps the Head Auror - the grizzled grey haired Alastor Moody - felt it a little hypocritical and had given up on him after fifteen years of nagging.

"Moony," Sirius said at once, looking relieved to see Remus sitting up in bed, obviously on the mend, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine," Remus said, shrugging, and then regretting it as his bandaged middle twinged, "like it's the old days."

Sirius frowned, "Not fine then?"

Remus sighed and shook his head, he felt quite frustrated all of a sudden. "I have no idea what's going on mate," he said, hoping Sirius would give him some answers, "Harry knows more than I do, and he's been in hospital nearly as long as I have."

"Speaking of," Sirius said. He flicked his wand and muttered, "_Muffiliato_."

There was a beat and then Harry said, a little too loudly, no doubt due to the buzzing in his ears, "You're no fun, Uncle Padfoot."

Sirius rolled his eyes, "Bloody nosy kid, anyway, we're here to bring you up to speed - you're relieved Tonks," he added as an aside.

The young Auror got to her feet at once. "Thank goodness," she said. She picked up her bag from the floor, and tucked her magazine away, then she looked askance at Remus, "No offence, Mr Lupin."

"None taken," Remus smiled, "guarding a snoring man would not be at the top of my list either."

"That part wasn't so bad," Tonks replied, with a twitching lip, "it's frisking school children that really isn't that fun."

Both Frank and Sirius laughed at this, and Remus thought he must be missing some Auror in-joke.

"Mad-Eye's gone and taken a personal interest in this case," Frank explained at Remus's curious look.

"Only 'cause it's you," Sirius said to Remus, and then he growled in a reasonable approximation of Alastor's gruff voice, "Check every damn person that enters that hospital, kids and staff alike. Can't have Remus-bloody-_Lupin_ going wild on us – every sodding werewolf in the country will lose his job, imagine if the papers get a hold of it!" Sirius continued, pointing his finger like the head Auror tended to do, "Disaster!" he finished dramatically.

Tonks snickered and Remus was both pleased and exasperated to have the old man's special interest.

"He'll expect a briefing from you at eight tomorrow morning," Sirius said to Tonks, "you're off till then."

"He would," Tonks said, "why does he want it from me?"

"Because you're his pet," Frank put in.

Tonks looked about to protest but then Sirius said, "It's much better to be pet than peeve, believe me."

Tonks lifted her eyebrows and Frank said, "Haven't you noticed Black's got a deeply ingrained fear of walking sticks? During the war Moody whacked him nearly into paranoia - to this day if you lift a cane in his direction he'll heel like a good dog."

Tonks was looking between the two older Aurors in disbelief.

Sirius just shrugged, and said seriously, "it's getting better now that he's cut his hours back a bit."

Tonks shook her head in amusement, "Right, well I'll see you both in the office tomorrow," she turned her bright expression on Remus and said, "and I'll see you next time these two need a break," she twiddled her fingers in a happy farewell, "bye Remus."

"Thanks," Remus said as she left.

"Remus now, is it?" Sirius said offhandedly, as he perched himself on the side of Remus's bed, close to his feet.

"That is my name," Remus replied, feeling defensive, although he really didn't think he had a reason to be. "I don't let everyone call me Moony, you realise."

Sirius lifted an eyebrow at the snippy tone, "You're the victim, she should be calling you Mr Lupin."

"I asked her to call me Remus," Remus said, not wanting Tonks to get in trouble, "it's fine."

"Alright, this is what we know so far," interrupted Frank, thankfully putting an end to their pointless conversation because there was a sly little twinkle in Sirius's eyes that belied his nonchalant question. Frank flipped open his notebook and summarised for Remus, "On Friday afternoon Professor Snape brought the Wolfsbane potion up to the hospital wing; he came directly after classes finished, the same time he brings it up every afternoon in the week preceding the full moon. It sat in its cauldron on its portable fire to ensure it was fresh, until five-thirty when Madam Pomfrey measured out the two doses. You and Miss Reeves arrived at six fifteen. The two doses were alone in the office for forty-five minutes, and in that time five different people were in the hospital wing: Poppy Pomfrey, Wesley Fawley the NHS inspector, Draco Malfoy, Flora Black and Greta Reeves. However, with the inspection distracting Madam Pomfrey, it is certainly possible that someone could have slipped into the office unnoticed.

Remus's voice was shocked as he asked sharply, "Flora is a suspect?"

"Not really," Sirius said, "she and Greta were only here to see Draco, and were never out of Poppy's sight."

Frank looked down at his notes again, "Draco was having his bandages re-done and had been here since five."

"He missed dinner?" Remus asked.

"Looks that way," replied Frank.

"Odd kid," Sirius said, cottoning on to Remus's train of thought, "What sort of teenage boy misses an opportunity to eat?"

"Flora _was_ out of Poppy's sight," Remus said. "Greta told me. She said Poppy had to get some sort of inventory list for Fawley, they were talking to him while she was gone."

"Shit," said Frank. "Now we're going to have to question her too."

"Will Moody take you off the case?" Remus asked Sirius, concerned - he didn't really want to have to trust a stranger with something like this.

"I don't think so, not as long as Frank interviews Flora," Sirius said at once. "It's not really more of a conflict of interest than you being the victim." He looked uneasy for a moment, "No, I think this is too high profile for Moody to trust anyone else with it, he's already worried about media fallout."

"I'd say Flora's lack of reasonable motive will get her crossed of the suspect list pretty quick," Frank said. "Her godfather is not someone she would have any reason to hurt and Greta, who could have been in danger too, is one of her best friends - it seems pretty farfetched. The plus side is that this is being kept entirely confidential, so there will be no press asking questions or casting doubt on the investigating Aurors loyalties."

Sirius grinned, "I'm sure Hermione will be accusing us of conspiracy and lack of open government in no time."

Remus gave a little laugh at that. "Perhaps you shouldn't tell her then, for her own good."

"Perhaps," Sirius agreed. "So, other than someone fiddling with your potion, the only other obvious avenue at the moment is something in _you_ affecting the Wolfsbane's effects. A curse, or a counteragent slipped into your teapot."

"Teapot?" Frank asked, flicking pages in his little book as if expecting to find reference to a theory on teapot tampering.

"Kids have teddy bears, Remus has a teapot," Sirius said, succinctly. "If you were going to get to Remus you'd go through his teapot."

Frank looked at Remus, obviously expecting him to deny it. "I don't take it to bed with me," Remus offered, as Sirius sniggered into his hand. Remus worked very hard to keep his face straight. He was very fond of his old tin teapot.

"Odd, the pair of you," Frank huffed. He checked his notes again, "well, that's all we have for now, I'll be back with Severus sometime this week so he can check you for curses."

"Why do we have to use him?" Sirius complained, "the Ministry has actual curse breakers, surely they'd be the people to use."

"Don't be so difficult," Frank said tiredly. "Snape already knows about the incident, we're trying to limit the people involved and he is certainly knowledgeable in curses that affect potions, probably more so than most of the Ministry curse breakers. You don't have to come."

"I heard about the, er, altercation," Remus said, "in the dungeon yesterday?"

Frank scowled but Sirius only shrugged, "He seemed to be the most likely culprit, the man who brewed the potion that didn't work. And I wanted an excuse to jinx him."

"Merlin, Black, you really can't say things like that!" Frank groaned.

"I also heard there was an explosion?" Remus pressed.

Sirius laughed, "Blame James for that, I wish I could take credit. James got a little too into the interrogation, he's a bit out of practice."

"First time in years I've seen Potter interested in a case," Frank said, appearing to be over his grump, or perhaps after so many years he just knew when to pick his battles with Sirius. "He's normally too wrapped up in his combat classes."

This was true, Remus realised - James really had no place in accompanying Sirius and Frank to question Snape, other than using it as an excuse to decorate the Potions Master's office with frog innards.

James worked in the cadet training department for Ministry Law Enforcement, their specialist in combat and field work. His trainees were not just Aurors but the regular Law Enforcement Patrol and the practical arm of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures too. James was still a qualified Auror, having completed his interrupted final stage of training after the war had ended, but it was plain to everyone that his calling was teaching, not investigating. Mad-Eye had encouraged this; after all, it was no secret that the Head Auror disliked anyone under the age of thirty, so he was very glad to pass the buck. Tonks was apparently the exception to this rule, if she had earned the title of Moody's pet; she must be very talented, he mused, or maybe there was a story there.

"It's not really surprising though," Sirius said, breaking Remus out of his distraction, "of course James is worried about this, it's a pretty big deal, if Remus had bitten anyone –" he looked at Remus apologetically, "Merlin, we'd be lucky to get the chance to investigate at all before they lopped his head off."

Remus winced. Hearing Madam Pomfrey call it an 'assassination attempt' in her clinical way was much less real than Sirius's casually thrown out mention of decapitation. Remus thought of the damage it would do to the werewolf population, how it would erase everything he'd worked for in the last ten years. Not to mention the horrific cold fear that stole over him at the idea of having his head cut off… certainly something he'd like to avoid if possible.

Sirius seemed to know exactly what was going through Remus's mind. "Don't worry Moony," he said, patting Remus's blanket covered knee, "whatever is going on here, we'll figure it out. Longbottom and I have the best success rate in the office."

"Yes," Remus said, trying to sound like his normal unruffled self, but the panicky flutter inside him caused his voice to waver, "but decapitation is hardly a sentence that can be overturned, so you really only have until the next full moon to figure out what went wrong or who is trying to hurt me, or it could happen all over again."

Sirius met his eyes. The determination Remus had seen in his friend many times before was plain in his face, but Sirius seemed uncharacteristically earnest as well. Remus knew that there was no doubt that Sirius and James would be there to help him take all the precautions necessary to avoid disaster, but the fact was that normal transformations were horrible, debilitating things; if someone had cursed him so that the potion would no longer work, he was possibly facing a life without Wolfsbane, which was a very grim prospect indeed.

* * *

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_Thanks for reading xx_


	5. Chapter 5

**_A massive thanks to Mirabelle P, my brave new beta. You've done a wonderful job. xx_**

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* * *

The interrogation rooms used by the Department for Magical Law Enforcement were not particularly pleasant. Sirius didn't know if the architect of the Ministry of Magic building had arranged the rooms in close proximity to the holding cells and court rooms for the purpose of convenience or intimidation. As they had also, rather inconveniently, omitted basic amenities such as windows and heating charms, Sirius thought it likely that it was the later. _Vindictive old coots,_ he mused, as he walked the length of the chilly stone corridor. But then, he was on his way to question their most likely suspect in the Wolfsbane case, someone who could have got Remus executed, so maybe sitting in a cold windowless room was a little less than Mr Fawley deserved anyway.

The N.H.S. inspector was pacing the small room when Sirius entered. He let the door slam loudly behind him, and Fawley jumped out of his skin. It was no surprise that Fawley was jumpy, he'd already had the standard questioning from Frank and Tonks first thing that morning. He'd been left to stew in the interview room until now. Unfortunately, Sirius would have to let Fawley go after their conversation, because he had nothing to ask him that Frank and Tonks hadn't. But repetition was a very simple way of picking up on subtle differences in the suspect's replies, and guilty people tended to make mistakes when under pressure. So it was worth one more try.

"Good morning Mr Fawley," Sirius said shorty, taking place on one of the chairs around a rather utilitarian table in the middle of the room, and inviting Fawley to do the same. The man was wearing his Ministry I.D. and his white inspection coat was hanging over one of the chairs. He seemed rather impatient as he sat down and smoothed the front of his blazer.

"Auror Black," he said at once, he straightened his glasses and then folded his hands on the table top. "I hope you've come to tell me I'm free to go. I've been here for nearly three hours – that's as long as you can legally hold me without any evidence." He looked quite sure of himself. Sirius should have expected this: Fawley worked for the Ministry, he'd be well schooled in his legal rights.

"Perhaps I _have_ evidence," Sirius said haughtily. He didn't have evidence of course, but Fawley wasn't to know that yet. He flipped open the case file he was carrying and said, "Wesley Fawley of 33 Tudor Road, South Shields?"

"Yes," Fawley said patiently, "as I've already confirmed with Aurors Longbottom, Moody and Tonks."

"You are a qualified Healer?" Sirius continued.

"Yes, to inspect our nation's healing facilities you must be fully qualified in the field."

Sirius looked down at the notes. "Wolfsbane is one of the standard curriculum potions in healing training, is it not?"

"Of course, and doesn't that counter your allegations?" Fawley suggested, a touch of impatience entering his voice. "I believe the potion didn't work, whereas I am quite capable of brewing it correctly."

"I'm sure," Sirius said smugly. He'd hit a nerve. "You would also know ways to contaminate it, Mr Fawley. The potion was obviously brewed correctly, only _one_ of the recipients suffered a normal transformation. The problem is that you had access to the measured out doses that afternoon."

"I advise you to speak with Poppy Pomfrey," Fawley said tightly. "She and I worked steadily together all afternoon."

"Did you?" Sirius asked, annoying even himself with his patronising tone.

"Yes," insisted Mr Fawley.

"Well that's not completely true, is it? You see, Greta Reeves said that you spoke to her, Flora Black and Draco Malfoy while Poppy was getting the–" he flipped the page in his notes as if checking a fact, even though he knew them by heart now, "–gauze inventory. Snape delivered the potion directly after classes, and the matron measured out the two separate doses while you were there. The cups with the potion were in the office while Poppy was absent."

Fawley seemed to pray for patience. He closed his eyes behind his glasses and took a deep breath. When he spoke he sounded calm once more.

"Yes, but I think Greta, your daughter and Mr Malfoy could all tell you that I did not enter the office. In fact, it would have been difficult for anybody to enter. Poppy and I were checking the patient records, and unfortunately her undetectable extension charm did not extend past the door of the record cupboard. Once she got the files out for me to check, it was somewhat of a disaster." Then he added, "I'm sure she was just trying to annoy me."

Sirius frowned at the conversational reply. He slammed the file shut, possibly a little too dramatically, and asked brusquely, "Why would you want Mr Lupin to face a normal transformation?"

"I wouldn't." Fawley said at once.

"Did you only contaminate his dose because you know Greta's father? She says he talks about you at home."

"I would guess he doesn't say many kind things about me," Fawley said. "Compliance inspectors aren't really anyone's favourite person."

"But you've known him a long time?"

"Yes, he runs a tight ship out there at Azkaban, very acceptable. I visited on Friday morning in fact."

"Yes, you told Auror Longbottom that. He's written here that you then came to the Ministry to collect the Hogwarts paperwork and file your Azkaban report before leaving for the school."

"That is correct," Fawley said. "Really Auror Black, you must look elsewhere for your tamperer. I have no motive, I was not alone with the potion – you are wasting your time with me."

"I will decide that," Sirius said, but he knew Fawley was right. Truth be told, Sirius was having issues with seeing past Snape's very likely involvement. The greasy git had brewed the potion for Merlin's sake. And he hated Remus, and was a horrible evil prick. But Frank and Moody both needed more evidence than that. So Sirius had moved on to the next likely suspect, even if he seemed far too straight-laced and fond of authority to attempt such a potentially horrific crime.

Sirius couldn't believe how lucky they had been that James had suggested a Hogwarts full moon. The three men hadn't been together in months – not since the summer when they had met at Remus's secluded forest cottage to run about in the woods, pretending to be much younger than they were. It had all been so spur of the moment too, James's memo had only arrived in Sirius's office at lunchtime on Friday.

"Mr Black?" Fawley said, interrupting Sirius's distraction. "May I go? I have a very tight schedule to keep. I've already missed my morning appointments."

"Auror Black," Sirius corrected him, just because he was annoyed. "Yes, you can go. But if you need to go anywhere except home and work you'll have to clear it with us. You're still a suspect."

Fawley handed Sirius a piece of parchment. "This is my inspection schedule for the week. As you can see I'm required to be in Manchester in forty minutes, tomorrow morning is Cardiff and then the afternoon is a care home on the Isle of Wright."

Sirius frowned at the list. Good grief this man got around. "Fine," Sirius said, "leave me the details of all the facilities you will be at this week, and then get going. You can expect an Auror to drop in on you regularly."

As Fawley wrote out the required information, Sirius perused the front page of Fawley's file. His eyes fell on the address. It struck him as odd that the tightly wound inspector came from such a place – Sirius had picked him as a Southerner due to his accent.

"Why do you live in South Shields of all places?" Sirius asked curiously. "It's not like it's close to work – but then, nowhere is for you really."

"I'm a muggleborn," Fawley said. "My father worked at the ship yards. When he passed away I got the family home, in South Shields."

"Oh," Sirius said. Fawley must have worked hard to rid his speech of its northern burr. Sirius supposed that could be considered suspicious … although he reasoned attending Hogwarts and training at St-Mungo's medi-school would beat any regional accent out of anyone. Personally Sirius didn't like northern port very much – mainly because it was the port the Aurors used to get out to Azkaban, but also because the surrounding area was so heavily industrialised, unlike Godric's Hollow in the West Country.

"You associate it with Azkaban," Fawley said. It wasn't a question. "So many Aurors do. A lot of the guards live in town," he went on. "It's probably a safer place for it."

"I didn't mean any offence," Sirius said.

"None taken," Fawley said. "This is really terrible business, I'm so glad the little girl wasn't affected. I actually saw her father that very evening – He was walking by on his way to the docks when I'd gone out to clear my letter box. Poor chap had a double shift… Hard worker that Archie."

"Yes, so I've heard."

Sirius had: in her letters Flora spoke of her new friend Greta, a girl who was happy to be at school because she was often left in the care of, in Flora's words, 'a frighteningly fat old woman' from across the street while her father worked and worked. Frank was actually in the process of trying to get in contact with the man so that they could get his permission to question Greta. But he was yet to answer his floo.

* * *

After he escorted Fawley from the dungeons, Sirius went in search of his wife and a cup of tea. He didn't have to look very hard. Hermione was to be found in the same place she always was on a weekday at half twelve: sitting in the busy staff tea rooms. Hermione was a creature of habit, Sirius had discovered during the last twelve years. No matter her work load, at twelve o'clock it was time for lunch and she would invariably sit in the same chair, at the same end of the same long table that ran the length of the room. She claimed it helped her focus to have the same schedule every day, and as she was possibly the most focused person Sirius had met in his whole life, he guessed it worked. Maybe he should start taking regimented lunch breaks too…

Unsurprisingly she was absorbed in a book. She sat eating somewhat mechanically, her fork speared bits of salad from the bowl in front of her as her eyes flitted back and forth across the page. Sirius smiled fondly. Hermione with a book in hand, completely unaware of her surroundings was a sight that made him feel nostalgic. It always reminded him of evenings spent in her little hotel room in the mad four months leading up to Voldemort's death, back when they were really only kids. She'd seemed so grown up to him then, so responsible, so ridiculously brave. She still was of course, but pushing paper in the Ministry hardly required the same level of steely nerve as orchestrating an assassination.

"Sirius? You alright there?" Hermione asked, obviously not quite as blinkered by her book as he had thought. She was smiling at him, but there was a tiny line of consternation between her eyes that suggested he was behaving oddly.

He supposed he was, standing rather gormlessly, staring at his wife across the table which was packed with lunching Ministry drones. But he'd never claimed to be normal, she really should be used to it by now. He nodded and then took a detour via the serving window to get a cup of tea before he squeezed in next to Hermione at the table.

"Hello," he grinned, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing you'd like," Hermione said lowering her book. The cover showed a crumbling henge, surrounded by what looked like highland crags. "I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed with work today, my brain fancied a holiday."

Sirius read the back cover and then looked significantly at Hermione again. "A war time nurse thrown back in time?"

Hermione twisted her lips, and her cheeks pinked a little. "Yes, where she meets a brave and handsome stranger."

Sirius began to laugh. "I can see why that would appeal to you," he said, preening a little.

"Some time travellers have all the luck," she said, rolling her eyes at his affected pout as she put her book aside and picked up her tea cup. "Well?" she asked. "How did it go? Is the inspector the culprit?"

"Buggered if I know," Sirius said. "I normally feel more certain, but this Fawley, he has absolutely no motive that I can find, and wasn't even alone with the potion. On paper he's no more guilty than Flora, and far less than Snape."

Hermione clicked her tongue in reproach. "Yes, but Snape would never be so foolish. Please don't antagonize him again." She shook her head and then sipped her drink, before she added, "I hate to say it, but he'll only take it out on Flora if you keep at him."

"The frog bits was James not me," Sirius said stubbornly, but he knew she had a point.

"Yes," Hermione conceded, her stern look softening, "but you still laughed about it for the rest of the evening so I'd say you share the burden of guilt equally in Snape's mind."

"Whatever," Sirius shrugged, wanting to laugh again at the mental picture of the sallow skinned grease-ball wiping frog intestine out of his eye. Sirius forced himself to focus. "I'm not sure where to go with the case now. I'm waiting for a reply from Narcissa so that we may question Draco. I'm sure she'll insist on being present, so we might end up doing Draco's interview here, rather than at school.

"It still seems a bit dodgy to have you investigating this while Flora is a suspect, doesn't it?" Hermione said. "I mean, obviously I'm glad that my little girl has the added protection her dad while she goes through something a bit scary, and I want the person who tried to hurt Remus caught, and you and Frank are excellent Aurors but what if –"

"Frank's going to deal with the girls," Sirius cut in, hoping to head off a full-blown Hermione-rant, "we'll get them cleared quickly don't worry." Hermione was still frowning as Sirius continued, "Although he'll need a day off first, he was on duty guarding Remus all last night."

"But you were at home on Saturday night, I hope Frank hasn't been at the castle all weekend," she said, momentarily distracted from her concern.

"No, Tonks did Saturday night," Sirius said. He was quite proud of his young cousin. "She's really coming along, I'm sure I was nowhere near as confident at her age."

"Tonks was guarding Remus?" Hermione asked, Sirius wasn't sure why this was important but it had taken her attention from the dubious ethics of the investigation, so he wasn't going to question it.

"Yeah," he said, "just to make sure no one would come back to get him while he was sleeping, since it's pretty clear whoever tampered with his potion wants to hurt him."

"And what did Tonks think of the famous Remus Lupin...? Did they get along?" Hermione asked, something Sirius couldn't quite grasp lingered in her question.

"Seemed to," he answered. "But then they're both pretty personable – Tonks gets along with everyone and Remus is polite to a fault, even when bandaged and in pain. It wasn't like they were going to argue."

"That's true," Hermione said, and an inexplicable little smirk crossed her face. "Have you heard how he is today? I'm sure Flora will be disappointed that he's away from class."

"Hang on," Sirius said suddenly, finally recognising her odd questions for what they were, "you have your _'I know something'_ look."

"I think you'll find I know lots of things," Hermione said superiorly, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "I'm very well read."

"You know what I mean," Sirius insisted, "the '_I know something from the future' _look."

Hermione blinked innocently at him. "The future we're living in is very different to the one I knew."

"Don't give me that," Sirius grouched. "Is it about me?"

"It's not, it's nothing," Hermione said, picking up her book, and giving it her full attention once more.

"Ha!" Sirius said triumphantly. "If it's not about me then you have to tell me," he said, "that's the rules."

Hermione spared him a quelling glance, before speaking to the pages of her book. "Rules which you made up. Anyway, there's nothing to tell." She turned another page while Sirius was trying to think of a legitimate reason for her to tell him, but before he could come up with one, Hermione asked, "I'm assuming you're going to be guarding him tonight then? If Tonks and Frank have both had a go?"

"Yeah, I will. Come on, even just a hint?" he tried again.

"No," Hermione laughed, "there's nothing to tell." Then she smirked and added temptingly, "Not yet."

"Evil, you are," Sirius said, but he'd never get it out of her if she didn't want to tell, so he gave in. "Right, I'm going to see Moody before I head home to get ready for my Hogwarts sleep over." He leaned in and kissed her, on the lips this time, then pinched a bit of chicken from her salad before he stood up. "See you for lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure," Hermione said, "let me know when Frank is talking to Flora, I'll make sure I can be there. Have a nice time with Remus tonight."

Sirius grinned and nodded, pleased that Hermione was more worried about Flora than the multiple conflicts of interest with him investigating the case. "Will do."

* * *

On Monday lunchtime Flora Black sat at the Gryffindor table between her dorm mates Greta Reeves and Beth Longbottom. The Great Hall was crowded and noisy as usual, students in every direction laughing and teasing and stuffing their faces.

Flora had grown up with stories of Hogwarts. Her father had attended the school but her mother hadn't, even though she seemed to know an awful lot about Hogwarts. But then, Flora's mum knew an awful lot about everything, so perhaps it wasn't that surprising. There were a lot of books written about Hogwarts, after all. With a childhood full of stories from her dad and uncles, and then from Harry and Neville when they started, Flora thought she knew what to expect, but no stories prepared you for living in close quarters with eight hundred teenagers. It was loud and crowded and huge. The shifting staircases and repetitively similar corridors had gotten her lost more than once during her first three months.

But even with all the overwhelming differences to her old life in Godric's Hollow, Flora loved Hogwarts. There was, however, something concerning her, and she was reminded of it as she looked across the hall. Through a gap in the sea of students Flora could see the back of a lone bright blond head bent over his plate at the Slytherin table. Sat apart from the other students, was her favourite, and only proper cousin, Draco.

Flora didn't know what to do about Draco. He'd been her friend since before she could remember, her bossy older cousin who lived at Granny Wally's. She'd never known that he had no friends at school, but now she knew why he never talked about Hogwarts the way Harry and Neville did.

Flora may have only been here for three months but in that time she'd never seen Draco sitting with anyone at meals, or in the library. The only time she'd ever seen him in the company of his housemates was on an evening a month ago when she'd come across him surrounded by four towering upper years in a basement corridor. The older boys had left when Flora had said a bright hello to Draco, squeezing in between them to tug him by the arm in the direction of the kitchens, where they were supposed to be meeting to have biscuits.

Outside of those few trips to the kitchen, they rarely got to see each other. The Hogwarts Draco was very different to her childhood friend, and it bothered her terribly.

A gale of laughter from the corner where Harry was sat whispering something to Ron Weasley and Neville drew her attention away from Draco. She scowled down the table at them. Harry's bruised face really didn't lessen her ire at him. There he was, sitting happily with his mates while Draco was all alone. They were friends in the summer too, Draco and Harry, just not at school it seemed.

Flora's mum had always told her that girls could be tricky, cliquey and prone to pack mentality, but it seemed to Flora that teenage boys were just as bad. Draco was a decent boy, possibly a little sarcastic, and not very polite if you beat him at Quidditch – which she had only managed once, in rather dubious circumstances, and he still maintained she cheated – but he was generally fun and easy to get along with.

She watched him across the hall. The other third year Slytherin boys sat not far from him, the good looking Blaise Zabini flanked, as ever, by Crabbe and Goyle – two hulking apes that served the dual purpose of protection and making Zabini look even more handsome in comparison.

Then, out of nowhere, an older boy, at least in fifth year, sat down right next to Draco. He leaned in close and Draco seemed to shy away. His shoulders hunched, he glanced up at the staff table, and in profile Flora could see his mouth was a thin line. Then Draco dug in the pocket of his robe and, bizarrely, grabbed the older boys hand for a moment. The older boy smiled, bumped Draco with his shoulder and then stood up and left. As soon as he was gone Draco cast a nervous look down the table, before he snatched an apple from the bowl in front of him, swung his bag onto his shoulder and quickly got to his feet to make his way out of the hall.

Flora was not the sort of girl to let things lie – genetics, her dad said. She excused herself from Greta and Beth and followed her cousin's quick retreat.

Draco was tall for his age and his hurried strides were longer than Flora's. As soon as she was out of the hall she ran after him, down the stairs to the basement corridor that led to the dungeons. Her fast steps slapped noisily on the flagged stone floor and Draco stopped before the next flight of stairs, having obviously heard her.

He turned around and gave her a half smile. "Why are you chasing me?" he asked.

"Why are you holding hands with fifth year boys?" Flora countered immediately, coming to a dead stop rather suddenly, directly in front of him.

Draco looked down at his hands, and back at Flora. His bandages poked out just below his robe sleeve, but his arm didn't seem to pain him as he said, "I'm not," and wiggled his fingers at her.

"Yes," she insisted, "I saw you, at the lunch table."

Draco's face paled slightly, and he shoved his hands inside his pockets. He swallowed and lifted his sharp chin a fraction, but he spoke calmly. "Maybe I like holding hands with boys. Some boys do you know."

Flora drew herself up and folded her arms across her chest. She could tell he was hiding something. Just because she was only eleven years old didn't mean she couldn't see a blatant lie. "You looked like you didn't want him there," she said glaring sternly up at Draco. "What did he say to you?"

"Nothing, just leave it Flora," Draco sighed resignedly. His eyes flicked up and down the corridor and he continued, "I'm going to see Professor Snape, he promised to help with my Dark Arts essay. Did you want to come along?"

"Merlin, _no,_" Flora said at once, deciding to let Draco keep his secret for now. She would have to do some digging. "Professor Snape's head would explode if he had to see me outside of lessons. He barely copes with them as it is."

Draco gave her a proper smile. "He really does hate that you're good at potions you know. I'd love to know what Uncle Sirius did to him at school to make him hate _you_ so much."

Flora had wondered the same thing, and had written home about it after her first week. "Mum says Dad was a bully before he grew up," she told Draco, "and that I should try and show Professor Snape that I'm not like that." It seemed dubious advice to her. The Professor really seemed to hate her. She shook her head and said vehemently, "But he's so _mean_."

There were approaching footsteps and Draco didn't reply. In fact, he looked rather concerned. A moment later Flora knew why.

"Is that so Miss Black?" said the cool, cutting voice of Severus Snape.

_Damn it!_ Flora cursed internally. "Good afternoon Professor," she said quickly, hoping her polite smile hid her panic.

But the Potions Master didn't seem to be in the mood for doling out petty punishments. He scowled down his hooked nose at her. "Draco has potions work to discuss with me and you are holding him up. I suggest you stop putting your own agenda before his education, it is very selfish of you."

"That's not –" Flora began, "I was just worried –"

Snape glared more threateningly and Draco shook his head slightly. "Never mind," she sighed, defeated.

Feeling shunned, Flora dragged her feet all the way back up to the Entrance Hall after Snape had led Draco away. She just wanted to help, why wouldn't Draco talk to her?

* * *

**^V^**

* * *

_Sometimes I think I shouldn't have called this a *mini* sequel, the pre-plotted plot seems to gain more little tangents with every passing chapter. I promise we'll get back to Remus soon!_


	6. Chapter 6

_You might be thinking, 'that was a long three weeks …' you'd be right, it was nearly five. __Sorry about that! It's a lovely long chapter though so I hope that makes up for the delay. _

_Beta'd by the very clever Mirabelle P, lovely work you gorgeous thing, thank you! xx_

* * *

Sirius's corner of Auror headquarters was little different these days than it had been during the war. He still shared a cubicle divide with Frank, there were maps and posters and protocol lists plastered all over the walls and his robes still hung on the coat stand more often than he wore them. He did have a newish swivel chair (his old one had perished in the great office-chair joust of '91) and now there were a couple of photos tacked up among the work-related wall decoration.

His favourite of these pictures still made him chuckle even though it was faded and nearly ten years old. It showed Hermione smiling for the camera – until a large splat of mashed pumpkin hit her unexpectedly in the face. A little plastic spoon waved defiantly in and out of view at the edge of the frame, clutched in a guilty and very chubby pumpkin-covered fist. Before the picture began its loop again Hermione spluttered and shot a very stern look in the direction of the catapult spoon. Sirius grinned at the memory. Flora had become an expert shot with her spoon, it had taken them months to train her not to flick food at any target she could find. Their progress had been impeded by the fact that Sirius couldn't help but laugh every time it happened, therefore encouraging the eighteen-month-old to do it again and again.

Sirius skimmed his case notes before he packed them into his bag. Frank had added the transcript of his interview with Fawley to the file that morning after he'd returned from Hogwarts. They'd decided that Remus only really needed a guard while he was asleep – a decision brought on by what Frank had recorded as "_the victim's vehement insistence_."

Understandably Remus was not pleased to have people watching him constantly. Sirius wondered if Remus had actually shouted at Frank – he must have be very insistent to change the Auror's mind.

Sirius left Auror Headquarters for the lifts. If there was a small silver lining in this whole situation, it was that even though he was kept awake at night wondering who on earth would try to hurt one of the most morally considerate people in Britain, Sirius now got to leave work at two o'clock in the afternoon. Perhaps he'd have time for a nap before he set off for Hogwarts that evening.

Sirius's mind fell to Hermione and her future secrets as he waited for the lift to rattle down to him. The obvious conclusion based on context was that in her original time there had been something between Remus and Tonks. It seemed very dubious to Sirius however. Remus was nearly fifteen years older than the young Auror, generally rather serious and would more often than not choose a book and a fireplace over the pub for a Saturday night these days… whereas Tonks lived to duel bad guys and frequently attended rock concerts. It must have taken something extreme to push the two of them together in any world.

The lift finally arrived and Sirius stepped aboard. There were two young chaps already inside – they were mid-conversation and both holding a towering arm-load of files all stamped with the Ministry of Magic insignia.

"Yeah," the taller of the two was saying, "the muggles even beat them there apparently. You know, they have those huge red trucks with the sirens and garden hoses? Sloshed water all over it before the emergency reversal squad could get there."

The other man, who was pale and freckly with a head of gingery blond straw said, "I heard Mitchell from downstairs complaining about all the paperwork. The muggle firemen were flummoxed apparently, no matter how much water they threw at the house it just kept burning. The old bird who lived there got out alright though so I guess that's something."

"Level three," said the lift.

The two men moved past Sirius, still balancing their file stacks and the taller one said, "Mitchell complains about every bit of paperwork work, this probably wasn't even that bad."

'_Odd,'_ Sirius thought – house fires were not that common in the wizarding world despite their love of candles, chimney travel and portable blue flames. The only fire that was really worrying to a wizard was Fiendfyre, the terrifying cursed fire Sirius knew all too well, but normal or even magic flames of the non-sinister variety could all be vanished quite easily.

* * *

Remus was sitting up in bed when Sirius arrived. He was concentrating on folding a piece of parchment into a tiny paper dart, his tongue caught between his teeth as he ran his thumbnail across a fold, pressing it to a stiff crease. There was a pile of messily folded newspapers, books and some very muggle-looking magazines on his nightstand, so many of them that they were partially spilling onto his bed.

"Padfoot!" Remus said, the moment he saw him, forgetting his paper plane at once. His tone was so brightly cheerful it made Sirius suspicious.

"What's got into you?" Sirius asked, looking around, half expecting some sort of comical booby trap to be set off despite the fact that it was Remus in the bed and not James who'd be much more likely to find such a gag worth the effort involved.

"Nothing," Remus said lightly. His face practically shone with happiness. "Just pleased you're here, Frank said you were on duty tonight."

"Righto," Sirius said slowly. Remus grinned expectantly at him and Sirius asked, "Has the Matron given you something different with your medication today?"

"No…" Remus sighed. "Well, I have a funny feeling there was some uplifting elixir in my painkiller actually. Poppy keeps muttering about my listlessness." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not _listless_, I'm bored. So bloody bored. I think I've read every book in the school. I feel fine but she won't let me leave."

"_You're_ bored?" Sirius repeated in horror, as he dumped his bag down and peered a little closer at Remus's face. Remus nodded and Sirius asked sharply, "Why did Hermione shout at you at Flora's fifth birthday party?"

"What?" Remus spluttered in complete confusion, but when Sirius just stared at him stubbornly Remus clicked, and then muttered indignantly, "I'm an imposter now, am I?"

Sirius shrugged. "Remus Lupin does not get bored. Now either answer the question or I'll haul Snape up here to do some polyjuice tests, and because it's Snape I'll have to argue with him, and that will just make a big scene and – "

"Fine," Remus burst out. "And for the record, she should have been shouting at you. Padfoot's the one who ate the chunk out of the cake, I just tried to fix it – I wasn't to know that transfigured pink icing would turn all Flora's nursery friends pink from toes to piggy tails when they ate it."

Sirius snorted, satisfied that this was Remus, just an unusually bored one. "And I thank you," he said graciously. "To this day she thinks your sweet tooth was to blame."

"It wouldn't have been so bad if half of them hadn't been muggles," Remus said, obviously happy for any kind of distraction, even one that involved false accusations.

"Hermione only insisted on the muggle nursery for a year," Sirius said. "You know it was just to piss off my mother."

"That does seem to be one of her main goals in life."

"It is," Sirius said happily, plonking into the visitor chair. "So what shenanigans did you and Longbottom get up to last night? Gave Poppy hell I'll bet."

"Very funny," Remus said. "No, Frank's fine, – takes it all a bit seriously if you ask me. Excellent work ethic and all that, but he's hellishly dull compared to you or Auror Tonks."

"That's true," Sirius said. "So dull stuff first then? Then you can help me decipher my secretive wife."

"Hermione's got a secret?"

"Yes, but first," Sirius flourished his case file, "the run down." He grinned at his friend before he went on. "Wesley Fawley, the NHS Inspector, was interviewed today. Me, Frank and Moody all had a go with him. We all came to the conclusion that it's unlikely it was him, so we're back to square one a bit. The plan for this week is talking to Snape and Poppy – we'll see what they have to say... Anyway, Frank and I have been thinking – Greta was fine so the potion can't have been faulty. So Frank thinks, and I have to agree, that someone might have done something to you preceding the full moon…"

Remus eyed him suspiciously. "Why do I get the feeling your threat about Severus wasn't a joke?"

"Yeah," Sirius exhaled heavily, already annoyed with the prospect of having to talk to Snape. "Unfortunately Slimeball knows his curses, and since he happens to be on site we can get his professional opinion with much less fuss than that of an outsider." He grimaced at Remus, and said regretfully, "I do promise not to cover him in amphibian entrails though, if that's what you're worried about."

Remus gave a quickly stifled snigger. "Christ I wish I'd seen that," he said enviously. "So then, I've been made immune to wolfsbane you reckon?"

"Mate, I really don't know," Sirius said honestly. Remus's tone was light but behind his carefree attitude, Sirius could sense the very real fear he was trying to keep squashed down. "Once we have permission to talk to the kids we might have a better idea, but if Flora knew anything she would have been in McGonagall's floo to me right away, so I'm not that hopeful."

"Do you know what's really scary about this?" Remus asked. His affected casualness was even more transparent now. He twisted the sheet tightly between his fingers. "You know, other than me having to deal with that horrible shit every month."

"What?" Sirius asked cautiously.

"That if it can happen to me it can happen to anyone. Wolfsbane has been seen as infallible, people trust it. What will they think when it comes out that there is a way to stop to working?" Remus was clearly anxious, "Whoever's at fault will have to be kept silent somehow or years of equal rights progress could be undone."

Sirius had not thought of that. Moody kept banging on about keeping the investigation private, but when they made the arrest, they would have to make it public to convict the culprit. Wizengamot trials and their records were public property.

"Werewolves still have opponents out there," Remus said quietly. "And a chink in the armour like this would give them a real chance to raise public opinion against us."

"Remus," Sirius said sagely, "will you not think about the global repercussions of your little accident for one second?"

Remus looked like he was going to interrupt so Sirius hurried on. "You do remember who my wife is? She's probably already working on some cleverly drafted piece of legislation that somehow turns those opponents into criminals under the Equal Rights Act."

Remus let out a heavy breath and asked hopefully, "Is she really?"

"She didn't say she was," Sirius admitted, "but come on, it's Hermione. She almost certainly has a draft of something like that neatly tucked away in her 'I will fix the world' folder."

"I wouldn't actually be surprised if that was true," Remus chuckled. "She's done a pretty good job so far… Maybe that's what I need to sort my life out, more folders."

"You need a woman," Sirius corrected at once, seizing the chance to change the subject. It was an excellent way to get Remus's mind off the werewolf self-loathing that seemed to be more present than ever today. Sirius knew Remus was generally happy with his lot in life, but it was no secret between them that the he wanted a girlfriend.

"Really?" Remus said with half-hearted sarcasm. He looked like he wanted to add, '_This_ _again_?'

Sirius nodded confidently, determined to cheer his friend up. "If a man thinks he needs more folders, then what he actually needs is a woman. It's sound logic Moony."

"Fair," Remus said. "So who do you have in mind this time?"

To his credit Remus even managed to sound interested, though the track record of dates provided by Sirius should have meant he met the suggestion with trepidation at best.

"No one, it was just an observation." Sirius shrugged. Remus still looked quite disbelieving so he tacked on emphatically, "_Really_."

"Why don't I believe you?"

"At a guess I would say Patricia – or Louise?" Sirius smirked. "No, Margaret, she was the real disaster, wasn't she?"

"Every girl you've sent my way has been a disaster," Remus huffed. "But yes, Margaret with her 'I do it doggie style' t-shirt would have to take the crazy cake."

"Good looking though," Sirius said, struggling to keep a straight face.

"Yes," Remus allowed, "but you know..." His eyes widened a little as he remembered. "She was absolutely bonkers, and only ever interested in the attention that comes along with me."

"I don't know many decent looking women who aren't a bit mad," Sirius said, really just trying to get a rise out of him. "And you'd rather interesting than dull."

Remus wasn't so easily bated. "I'd rather dull than deranged though," he said seriously.

Sirius laughed.

Remus had obviously had enough being reminded of these disastrous dates because he asked slyly, "So what about Hermione then? Which is she?"

"Nice try," Sirius said. "She's secretive is what she is – one of her second-time-around ones too."

"Oh really?" Remus said interestedly, "Those seem to get fewer and fewer the closer we get to 2001."

"Yeah, she always says our time is different to the one in her past. But it turns out some things are constant."

"So do you have any idea what it's about this time?"

"Actually I sort of do," Sirius said, wondering if he should tell Remus his theory. Surely it couldn't hurt, and it seemed rather fitting considering the previous discussion. "I was talking about coming to guard you tonight and I told her that both Frank and Tonks had had a turn, and she asked if you and Tonks got along."

"So?"

"So, do you remember, near the end of the war, that day you rescued Hermione from the muggle police, when she came to stay at my place for good?"

"Yes," Remus said. He paled just slightly as he carried on, "I – I went to see Dumbledore and then came back to your flat."

"Merlin, we got so shit-faced that night," Sirius said, wondering if it was memories of the war or the hangover that followed that particular drinking session that made Remus look so uncomfortable. "But I'm sure I told you then that Hermione said you got married in the future, and that I knew the girl you'd marry."

Sirius had thought about this on and off all afternoon – if he had known the girl it must have been someone he'd known in '81, otherwise Hermione would have said it was someone he _would_ know, not someone he knew _currently_ (current being '81, not now in '93). Sirius frowned. There was a reason he tried to avoid thinking about things like this; clever he might be, but the tangle of futures and pasts and previously-lived-presents and current presents required more brain capacity than he possessed. Tonks fit the confusing bill however – Sirius hadn't met her until after Voldemort's defeat, since Andromeda had cut herself off from the family completely, but he had known that his cousin had a daughter.

Remus was looking at him in mild concern and Sirius realised he'd stopped talking mid-thought and was now staring rather gormlessly at his bedridden friend.

"Is that why you set me up on so many terrible dates?" Remus asked in sudden accusation.

"Maybe…" Sirius hedged. "I figured you might get lucky and meet her early." He smiled winningly and Remus scowled a little. "But when I mentioned Tonks at lunch today Hermione got that smug '_I know something_'look_._"

"Auror Tonks!" Remus exclaimed, his scowl replaced by amusement at once. "Sirius, the girl's barely twenty! I would've thought she'd have had plenty better suitors than an old werewolf."

"Old?" Sirius said indignantly. "Bugger off, we're young and sprightly, thank you."

"Sprightly?" Remus laughed, his eyebrows tented in slight incredulity. "No, I mean in the world Hermione knew – I'm not the same man, she's told me that many times. I was poor, saw myself as a burden on everyone else, I didn't trust wolfsbane to keep me safe, and people still hated werewolves. Why would a pretty, clever thing like Tonks want to marry that depressing bugger?"

Sirius thought he had a very good point. But he clung on to a tiny little bit of promise. "You think she's pretty?"

Remus flapped a hand in dismissal. "Of course I do, she _is_ pretty, it's hardly a matter of opinion. I suppose she'd be able to hide anything she didn't like about her appearance anyway," he mused.

"She doesn't though," Sirius said. "She looks just like her mum did when she was that age, except for that bloody mental hair."

"I sort of like it," Remus said, with and odd little smile. "I've never seen anyone with pink hair before."

"So you think she's pretty and you like her hair?"

Remus rolled his eyes. "What are we, thirteen? It's an observation, like how Longbottom always looks smart in his suits, or how Hermione thankfully looks like herself again now that her hair is back to brown."

'_Merlin__,__ she really does__,_' Sirius thought, but before he could tease Remus about checking out Longbottom, Madam Pomfrey appeared around the curtain. She was wheeling a cart with bandages and potions piled up on the right-hand side, and a covered dinner tray taking up the left.

"Mr Black," Madam Pomfrey said, addressing him the way she had when he was at school, rather than by his professional designation, Sirius thought she did this as a subtle way of getting her own back for all the mischief she suffered through. He didn't really blame her. "I must tend to Remus's injuries. Auror Longbottom found this a good time to go and fetch himself some dinner from the kitchens – the elves only send what is required for patients up to the ward."

Sirius frowned. Frank had left Remus alone while he was treated? That seemed unlike him. If someone was watching and waiting for a moment to try and get to Remus again, the time when he was vulnerable with unbandaged wounds seemed ideal.

Remus obviously realised Sirius's concern because he explained, "Frank did a check of the wing and then locked the doors behind him."

"Ah clever Frank," Sirius said, reassured. He left the two of them alone and had a quick poke around before going off to find a house-elf cooked meal – a guilty pleasure when one is married to Hermione Granger.

* * *

Remus was happy to learn that this would be his final bandage change. The deep wounds across his abdomen were closed. Three long, pink-on-the-edge, red-in-the-centre slashes now ran from his left hip bone to the underside of his ribcage on the right. He was very glad he hadn't seen them when they were fresh. He still had clear memories of the injuries he'd caused himself as a teenager, he didn't need to add to that with ones that were, by Madam Pomfrey's own admission, _testing_.

"You'll be free to go in the morning Remus," Madam Pomfrey said kindly. "I know you would have liked to get back to work earlier, but I just couldn't risk you over-doing it and tearing those."

"I understand," Remus said. "You've been very good at keeping me informed, thank you Poppy. I'm sorry for giving you such a scare."

"Silly lad," Madam Pomfrey clucked. "I must have told you a hundred times when you lay in here as a boy, it's not your fault, and I'll happily admit that I enjoyed your company, even back then."

"You did?"

"Of course, all the other children whined and complained about injuries and bad tasting medicinal potions, all except for you, the boy with the worst injuries and the most potions lined up on his nightstand. You always had the loveliest manners."

"I hope I still do," Remus said, noticing the past tense.

"Yes, though you're less patient these days," Madam Pomfrey said with the slightest reprimand in her voice.

Remus felt a tiny bit guilty for hurrying the Matron along every full moon. "Sorry," he apologised, "I have so many demands on my time now."

"Don't we all dear," she said knowingly. She waved her wand at the bed covers and they pulled themselves up.

"Sirius says they're going to interview you this week," Remus told her, unsure whether she would already know.

Madam Pomfrey was tidying the top of her trolley, slotting away empty vials and unused bandages. She looked up to reply. "Yes, I've been expecting as much. I think old Alastor would have given the order for me to be dragged away in irons if they hadn't had Mr Fawley to question first. Mr Moody was spitting tacks through the floo on Saturday afternoon."

Remus was quite glad he'd slept through the drama of the first few hours following the full moon. He was in no doubt that his opinion would have just confused things. He found the idea that Madam Pomfrey had anything to do with any of this preposterous. "Moody's just worried because it would be a media shitstorm if this got out." Remus winced at the accidental swear word – Madam Pomfrey had raised a disapproving eyebrow. But he continued anyway. "It could do quite a lot of damage to the public perception –"

"Yes, yes dear, I know," Madam Pomfrey cut him off. "I think you should remember that we're all worried that _you_ got hurt actually. Public perception can go hang. Someone tried and succeeded at bringing trouble and danger into this school, and they managed to hurt you and put everyone at risk. That's what has me concerned." She patted his hair and smiled kindly. "Now, you and Mr Black had better behave in here tonight. I'll not have you getting up to the sort of nonsense you used to find amusing."

"Poppy," Remus griped, semi-embarrassed, "we're adults."

"Perhaps," she said doubtfully, "but there's still muck on the Potion Master's dungeon ceiling that suggests otherwise."

Remus shrugged. "I'll think you'll find I have a very good alibi to prove I had nothing to do with that."

"Yes, you'd been out gallivanting in the forest with your friends all night," Madam Pomfrey huffed. "The height of dignified adult behaviour."

It took a moment for the full implication of this comment to sink in, and when it did Remus's heart seemed to skip a beat, only to pick up double time as he stuttered, "They weren't there all night – I…"

"Don't fib Remus," Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "I know plenty about what went on, both Friday night and when you were a student. I think we were all very lucky Misters Potter and Black decided to pay you a full moon visit."

"How do you –"

Madam Pomfrey fixed him with a look that said quite clearly, '_what sort of fool do you think I am?_' and spoke quietly as she fussed with his blanket, tucking it in straight and tight. "How did I notice that following Christmas of your fifth year your injuries suddenly changed from grievous self-inflicted ones to much more minor cuts and bites – bites that mostly did not contain the poisonous compound that causes lycanthropy?"

"Er," Remus flailed, he was at a complete loss on the best course of action.

"Indeed, '_er_' Remus," the Matron said in a haughty whisper. "It's not like you four were ever very careful about keeping your voices down in here either."

"Right," Remus said, deciding to just go with it. "Well, um, thanks for not turning them in?"

"As if I would, you'd never been so happy or healthy, I could hardly take that away could I?"

Remus didn't like to point out that her logic, while very sweet, was rather flawed. Instead of one boy being in danger now four were, something the school nurse should have found very concerning.

She gave him another soft smile and motherly pat to the cheek and left him to eat his dinner in peace.

Remus found he was quite starving even with such a revelation pressing on his mind. He decided not to mention it to Sirius just yet, he would just be disappointed that they weren't as clever and stealthy as he thought. Remus powered through his meal, and was just mopping up the last of his stew with a chunk of bread when the creaking of the hospital door announced Sirius's return. It sounded like he'd brought company because he was halfway through a sentence as the door swung closed again.

"I have to hear back from your mother before I can give you a date, but it's really nothing to worry about," Sirius said.

"Easy for you to say," answered a student's voice that Remus could have picked out anywhere – the drawling toff accent of Draco Malfoy. "You're not the son of a convicted Death Eater, the other Aurors won't be so even handed. They hate my kind."

"Draco don't be so dramatic," Sirius replied disparagingly. "_Your kind_ is a thirteen-year-old wizard, that's it. Neither Longbottom nor I see the importance of your relation to Lucius as anything more than our own is. Frank's his cousin, remember, as am I… on both sides I think."

"I suppose," Draco said sullenly. "But why do you need to talk to me anyway? I didn't go near the potion."

The footsteps came to a sudden stop and Sirius asked sharply, "And how do you know about the potion?"

There was dead silence and then Draco said, "Er, Flora told me?"

"Flora told you?" Sirius repeated.

"Yes," Draco said firmly. "Today, at lunch."

"Okay then," Sirius said, and Remus was surprised to hear such doubt in his friend's voice. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks Uncle," Draco said.

Sirius sidled around Remus's curtain and sat down in the visitors' chair again. He looked deeply concerned. "I've just been lied to," he said softly. "Merlin, that kid better not have anything to do with this." He waved a hand in Remus's general direction, lightly encompassing the murderous assassination attempt and possible derogation of a decade of equality legislation.

"What was the lie?" Remus asked, wondering if Sirius had stumbled upon some new evidence while on a hunt for dinner.

"That Flora told him about this," Sirius said at once. "Because she doesn't know. If she did she would have been here visiting you, or like I said earlier, she would have been in the floo demanding I tell her what happened."

"She might not have wanted to get caught knowing something she wasn't supposed to?" Remus suggested. Flora was very good at avoiding trouble, unless it was for talking in class.

"It's _Flora_," Sirius said, as though the flaw in Remus's reasoning was obvious. "She'd think of a reason to pop in and happen to see you here. Draco's come to get his arm checked, he does every day. It would be the perfect excuse for her to come up here; tagging along with her cousin."

"True…" Remus agreed. "But he wouldn't want to turn me wild – what motive does he have?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Sirius said grimly.

Remus thought that it was unlikely a thirteen-year-old was behind this. Harry knew that Snape had been accused of attempted poisoning, and that it had happened at the full moon. Both boys were clever enough to draw the conclusion that the wolfsbane potion was at fault. He could have told Draco… but then why would Draco not just say that Harry had told him?

"Merlin, did you see this?" Sirius said, picking up one of the many discarded _Daily Prophets_ that littered Remus's bedside table. The picture on the front page was of a burning farmhouse. Remus had read the article already, it was from today's edition.

"Yeah, Prongs will be gutted – all that North Kesteven grass up in smoke."

"I didn't realise it was _there_," Sirius said, looking more closely at the picture. "I heard some blokes talking about it at work, is it near to –"

Remus nodded, not needing Sirius to finish the question, they both only knew one person who'd lived in North Kesteven. "Quite," Remus said. "It's Mrs Pettigrew's place. The article says the frying pan caught fire, but… I don't know, the Death Eaters that got fifteen years in Azkaban are all eligible to apply for parole this year."

"Not 'til December though," Sirius said at once, he was well aware of the approaching milestone. "And I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if _his_ name was on the current list."

"I thought it might be a warning, a '_we haven't forgotten what you did_' sort of thing."

"But Pettigrew of all people?" Sirius said doubtfully. "He's not really high profile – no one except other Death Eaters and us know about his worst crime. I'd think if someone wanted to make a statement they'd go for Narcissa or even old Mr Lestrange, not Peter."

"Or maybe her frying pan really did catch fire," Remus shrugged. "She's getting on now, could be forgetful."

"Maybe," Sirius agreed.

The reminder of Peter and the old betrayal unsettled Remus. Most of the time he could ignore what Peter had done to them – his name was hardly ever said aloud so it was easy to keep it out of mind. But the smallest mention always brought it all sweeping back. Hearing Madam Pomfrey say 'the four of you' just before, when she was speaking about their time at school, was enough to make him cringe a little. Remus liked to think if himself as a reasonably well-adjusted twentieth century man, one who was comfortable expressing his emotions. But when it came to Peter and his selfish choice and what seemed to Remus like ten years of wasted friendship, he could barely speak the traitor's name in his head without it making his eye twitch agitatedly.

Remus drifted off to sleep that night with a head full of Hogwarts memories. Disturbingly these were broken up by flashes of the result of Peter's actions – the choppy recollections Remus had of his duel with Voldemort – bright green light, the sinister ghostly pale face, the cruel taunting hiss issuing from the black hood. Madam Pomfrey must have given him some sleeping draught, Remus realised blearily before sleep stole over him, because there was no way he should be able to sleep with such disturbing pictures in mind.

* * *

A few hours later, when the ward was dim and silent, Sirius watched Remus mutter in his sleep. He was so glad his friend was better. And he wished that he could have whatever it was the Matron gave to her patients to make them gain a restful sleep – to be able to drop off so quickly would be wonderful. '_Not tonight though_,'Sirius thought. He turned a page of _The Prophet_ he was reading – the noise of the paper crinkling seemed very loud in the now peaceful ward. He smirked as he read the horoscopes: he, as a Scorpio, would apparently do well to remember that following the trodden path wasn't the worst thing he could do. '_Ironic_,' he thought, the well-trodden path was exactly how this investigation felt. There was Ministry approved protocol everywhere he looked. But going through the motions wasn't going to find the person who did this to Remus, he was sure of that.

Sirius was interrupted by a thud and the high pitched tinkle of breaking glass followed swiftly by muttered swearing. Sirius leaned back in the visitors' chair and peered out through the curtains. The ward was lit by two low hanging lamps and the square of light that was the Matron's office. Standing in the shadows next to the tall supply cupboard, which was just to the right of the Matron's door was Draco. His blond hair gave him away in the dark, and on the stone floor at his feet, illuminated by the long spill of light from the office door, were several smashed bottles and vials, with their contents trickling out and running in seeping little rivers along the grouting in the stone floor.

"Draco?" Sirius asked in surprise.

Draco's head snapped up, and he looked in Sirius's direction, startled for a moment. "Whoops," he said, recovering himself. "Clumsy me." He scurried away from the cabinet, towards Sirius. "Got my bandages off," he said, waving his newly freed arm.

"It took four hours for Madam Pomfrey to take your bandages off?" Sirius asked nonplussed. That should have been a five minute job, and he hadn't heard Draco in the wing for hours, but then he hadn't come to say good-bye either...

"Yeah, 'kay good night Uncle Sirius," Draco garbled, hurrying down the ward. "Tell the Matron I'm sorry for the mess." And he all but ran from the room.

"Draco –" Sirius began but the door was already swinging closed as he got to his feet. What the hell was the kid up to, fossicking around in the dark?

Sirius walked the length of the room quickly, silently cursing himself for using the muffliato charm on the Matron – she wouldn't have heard any of it. He lifted the spell as he approached her door and knocked softly.

There was no answer. He poked his head around the door frame to see the Matron fast asleep in her armchair with a book open on her chest. She'd obviously been that way for quite some time.

"Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey?" Sirius said.

"Y-yes?" She woke with a start, her book slid from her chest to the floor, flopping closed and losing the page. "Mr Black, is everything alright?" she asked, reading her little upside-down watch and making to get to her feet.

"Yes," Sirius said, cursing himself for waking her. "Don't worry, I just wanted to, er, say goodnight." He wasn't completely sure why telling her that Draco had been lingering around in the dark seemed like a bad idea but it just did.

Madam Pomfrey gave him a questioning look, then she leaned off the chair to retrieve her fallen book, murmuring as she did so, "You always were an odd thing Mr Black."

"I know," Sirius said, very glad that his reputation for unusual behaviour was so well known.

He left the doorway and went back to his post beside Remus's bed, pausing only to vanish the smashed glass and potions from the floor. All the while he argued with himself. Draco was a sneaky kid but he wasn't evil, he wouldn't put all of Hogwarts at risk of werewolf attack no matter the reason…would he?

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Your feedback is so brilliant, and I'm so grateful! _

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